


Bring Me Back Home

by tournee_de_la_ladybug



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Miraculous Ladybug PV, Parallel Universes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2018-09-17 07:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 78,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9312374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tournee_de_la_ladybug/pseuds/tournee_de_la_ladybug
Summary: When an akuma sends Marinette flying into a parallel universe, she can’t help but think her life can’t get any worse. From the strangers surrounding her to the mysteriously cold Félix Agreste, she can’t seem to catch a break. Back home, things are no better as a displaced Bridgette Dupain-Cheng cleanses an akuma and finds her whole world changed with a Chat Noir that doesn’t seem to understand that they aren’t partners - they’re enemies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So, this is my first Miraculous Ladybug fic. I hope you like it!
> 
> For clarification purposes, I took some liberties with names. The Marinette and Adrien we know and love are called Ladybug and Chat Noir, but when it comes to Bridgette and Félix, they’re known as Coccinelle and Cat Noir. As well, Hawkmoth is the name in Mari’s world, but he’s referred to as Papillon in Bridgette’s. Hopefully this will keep things nice and clear. I’ll also be toying with Bridgette and Félix’s kwami’s names – again just so they’re easier to differentiate.
> 
> Adrien and Marinette have also been aged up to match Bridgette and Félix.

Amongst the busy streets of Paris, nestled in a cluster of buildings, a group of children darted through a park with snowballs heavy in their hands. From a safe distance, with her bluebell eyes keeping a cautious watch on the squealing kids, Marinette Dupain-Cheng frowned. She nervously picked at the bench beneath her.

“Alya, are you sure about this?” Marinette blinked up at her friend, who was busy wrapping a scarf around her neck.

The girl shot her a look that withered away the words on Marinette’s lips. Though a fresh blanket of snow had fallen on Paris the night before and school had been cancelled, Alya had been persistent about getting Marinette out of the house.

“We never go out,” Alya had pleaded, her devious eyes hinting at a hidden element to her scheming.

And Marinette, sleep-deprived from the late-night akuma named Ice Queen – a citizen that had sent wicked sharp daggers at her and Chat for half the night – had somehow agreed. 

Marinette reluctantly laced up her white skates and tugged her pink, knit scarf tighter around her neck. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hang out with her friend, but, well, ice was enough to make her slip on a good day. It seemed ridiculous to even think about purposely going onto it.

“Oh, cheer up, girl.” Alya’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “I have a surprise for you!”

A surprise? The seventeen-year-old allowed the slightest of smiles onto her face, moving to balance precariously on the skates. “What sort of surprise?”

Alya shook her head with a knowing grin and a finger raised. “Unh-uh. Skating first, surprise after.”

The girl pouted, but Alya was unrelenting.

The skating rink was open for the winter months, weather-permitting. The little area of the city was pretty in that time of year, with street lamps glowing at night and the snow coating the surrounding fields glinting in the daylight.

As they approached the flimsy barrier, Marinette latched onto it and gently, gently, stepped onto the ice. She shut her eyes, waiting a moment. Nothing. Her knees didn’t buckle. She didn’t go flying. Somehow, she was fine.

She let go of the barrier.

Her brown-haired friend patted her on the back. “See? That wasn’t so-”

Marinette let out a squawk and lunged for the bar again, her feet sliding out from beneath her.

“You’re hopeless.”

Marinette only grumbled a response.

It took about twenty minutes and several threats from Alya, but eventually, eventually, Marinette could move forward on her own. She watched one of the children from before go zooming past her and sighed.

Alya stayed faithfully by her friend’s side as she left the security of the bar, grasping her hand like a lifeline. That was, until her friend smiled that devilish grin again and let go. Marinette watched her skate back in dismay before returning her attention to staying upright.

In fact, she was so focused that she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a, “hey, Marinette!” from behind her. She yelped as she fell backwards, her weight too unbalanced from the shock to hold her up. She braced herself for the inevitable crash, but somehow it never came.

She dared to look up, meeting concerned green eyes and a shock of blonde hair.

“Are you alright?”

Marinette’s thoughts whirled. _Adrien, but ice, and Adrien, and she should have fallen but Adrien_ – Adrien had caught her?

He awkwardly lowered her to the ground while she collected her thoughts. Spinning in a circle around her, he offered a hand from a better angle.

“Marinette, are you alright?” He repeated with a worried line across his forehead.

“F-fine!” She accepted his hand, blushing horribly as he hauled her to her feet without as much as a second of hesitation.

He was wearing a dark pea-coat with black gloves that clashed against her white ones, and she noticed, oh she very much noticed, the bright blue scarf draped across his shoulders.

Adrien didn’t immediately let go of her hand. “Are you sure?”

He glanced down at her and suddenly she became fully aware of just how close they were standing. She made to take a step back, but found herself plummeting once again. Adrien lurched forward to tug her back up, laughing all the while.

“You really don’t know how to skate, do you?”

She grinned back, flustered. “Does it show?” This time she didn’t dare step away from him.

However, he did, gliding back a pace. “Well, come on.” He gently pulled at their still-clasped hands. “I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I left you stranded out here.”

Marinette’s breath caught in her throat as she nodded, reaching out to his other outstretched hand. She became dimly aware of Alya taking pictures beside an amused Nino.

He tightened his grip on her hands. “Ready?”

“Ready?” She murmured, distracted by his slightly windswept hair.

“Here we go!”

She was not ready. Marinette let out a loud squeal after moving mere inches across the ice. Adrien rested the point of his skate against the ice, stopping their slight advance. He began to let go of her hands, uncertain.

“S-sorry, I’m ready now. I promise.” She let out a determined huff of air and braced her legs.

“Well, you aren’t going to get very far like that,” he remarked, glancing at her locked knees. “Bend your knees a little. Just – step, step, glide.” He released her to demonstrate, then came skating back to offer his hands again.

Marinette inhaled deeply, and then stepped lightly forward. He matched her pace, moving back. 

“Step, step, glide – there you go!”

After a nervous giggle or two, Marinette finally relaxed enough to come to her senses. “Wait a minute – you’re – you’re…”

He cocked his head to the side. “I’m what?”

“Doing,” she gestured wildly, “that!”

Adrien took a fleeting look over his shoulder. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific.”

“You’re skating!”

Adrien blankly stared at her for a moment before letting out a laugh. With his nose pink against the cold and his smile shining down on her, she almost missed his reply. “This might come as a shock, Marinette, but you’re skating too.”

“No, I mean,” mortification washed over her. Cheeks growing hot, she mumbled, “you’re skating backwards.”

“Oh.” He glanced over his shoulder. “It comes with practice. I wouldn’t recommend you trying it – it’s hard to master. Ready to stop?”

“Stop?” She blinked up at him, perplexed.

He let go of her, whipping to the side as she slid slowly into the bar. She held onto it for dear life, barely registering the way Alya cackled behind her.  


This was just too much.

Though Marinette got off the ice at that point, she gladly watched her friends goof off on the rink from a safe distance, hands wrapped around a mug of cocoa. They took turns sitting with her, too, including a session where she nearly murdered Alya over Adrien’s surprise visit that she had so deviously hid from her. 

When Nino skated over to double-check that she didn’t want to come back on the ice, Alya and Adrien had crashed into each other after trying to synchronize their skating. Of course, like the true friends they were – Nino and Marinette had spent the next few minutes howling with laughter, even as the two painstakingly picked themselves off the ground. 

She was mostly quiet when Adrien came over to take a break, but as the sun set behind the city buildings and golden rays caught in his apple-green eyes, she found that she didn’t need to say anything. He smiled at her occasionally, and each time, her heart right about melted.

It was, overall, perfect.

A perfect day that would be her last for a long time.

That night, after they had said their goodbyes and Marinette had rushed inside her family’s bakery, she slammed her bedroom door with a sense of finality and collapsed back on her bed. Her ankle ached from the skating, but it didn’t bother her for long.

Tikki, her kwami, came flying out from her hiding place to settle on Marinette’s pillow. Marinette smiled wearily up at her.

“That looked like a lot of fun!” Tikki stretched out her arms in enthusiasm.

“It was, Tikki, but,” Marinette frowned, “I was such an idiot in front of Adrien, again.”

The kwami let out a giggle, floating up to rub against the girl’s cheek. “At least you talked to him today!”

“Always an optimist, aren’t you?” But even as Marinette grumbled the words, she grinned and began riffling through her bag for a cookie she’d snatched from the bakery. She handed it to the kwami, who gratefully gulped it down.

Marinette leaned back on her pillow again, glancing thoughtfully at a framed picture of Adrien. Her eyes had just slid shut when a thought struck her. She sat up suddenly, nearly smacking her head against the ceiling. “Patrol! I forgot about patrol!”

She and Chat had agreed on a new schedule a week before. With the holidays coming up, neither of them had much time for casual patrolling and had agreed to meet less frequently – unless the situation desperately called for it. 

“Ah, ah,” Marinette glanced at the time on her phone. She was already going to be late. “Tikki, spots on!”

Ladybug threw open the hatch to her rooftop balcony and climbed out, already holding her yo-yo in her hand. With a flick of her wrist, she went swinging off into the Parisian night, heading in the direction of the Arc de Triomphe. With a final twist of her wrist, she rolled onto the smooth top of the monument and came to a halt beside her waiting partner.

“Oh, Chat! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to the time and-”

“Aw, Bugaboo! It almost sounds like you would have been sad to miss me!” The cat-themed superhero grinned cheekily at her, resting a hand over his heart.

Immediately her apologies stopped and she playfully shoved at his shoulder. “Well, someone has to take care of a stray like you.”

“Me- _ouch_.” Chat Noir stumbled forward a step before nudging her with an elbow and grinning. “Where to, My Lady?”

She crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side. “You choose. I was late, after all.”

“As you wish.” He unhooked the baton from his belt and began to extend it. “Let’s go that way!”

She let out a laugh as he misjudged the angle of his baton and nearly sent himself falling back down onto the monument. They raced each other across the tops of the shops that lined the Champs-Élysées, exchanging playful jabs and jokes that rolled off their tongues.

With the wind sending tears streaming down their cheeks and the night’s cold clashing against the heat from their pounding hearts, Ladybug and Chat Noir flew across Paris. Their feet hardly hit the ground before darting back up, lost in some timeless race to meet the stars shining above them.

Ladybug swung low on her yo-yo, relishing the feel of the air swirling around her limbs and the power busting through her veins. And from her distance, she could tell Chat was feeling the same thing.

He met her pace easily, leaping and bounding over rooftops as though it were nothing. He let out a whoop of excitement and Ladybug, despite her better intentions, joined his ridiculous caterwauling – if only for a moment.

Those were the nights she loved. 

The nights with her partner and a blanket of stars above them, the nights filled with foggy breath and clear eyes that blazed in the sight of the city’s lights. That was the Paris she loved and the adventures she adored, as long as her best friend was beside her. She took a lingering glance over at her partner as she swung and found that just as she looked at him, he looked at her, smiling. She grinned back at him, noting in strange detail the way his mussed hair shifted in the wind and the way his smile grew ever so warmer when he looked at her. 

They finally alighted along an icy rooftop, cheeks red and panting for breath. Ladybug fixed her weapon around her hips and crossed her arms, glancing down at the park she’d been at hours before with Adrien.

“What do you think, My Lady? Care to go ice skating?”

She let out a dry laugh. “Funny.” She placed a hand on her hip and looked down at the rink where a few citizens were skating. “I can’t skate for the life of me.”

“Really?” Chat’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “I doubt that! Nothing’s impossible for you, Bugaboo.”

“Try telling that to the ice.”

Chat stood silently for a moment, the smile frozen to his lips. He unclipped the baton from his belt and held out a hand to her. “Come on, I’ll teach you!”

Ladybug immediately took a step back. “No. No way.”

“What,” he purred, a challenge in his eyes, “Scared?”

She scoffed. “Scared of some stupid ice? No!”

“Then let’s go!”

Ladybug pouted at him, to which he took a step back and dropped to one knee. “My Lady, it would be an absolute honor to have you as a skating partner this fine night.”

Even though she had a strange, sinking suspicion of just how well that would end, she reluctantly nodded. “Fine.”

He had just pumped a fist in victory when she raised a finger.

“On one condition!”

“Name it, Milady, and it shall be yours.”

“I don’t want to hear a single pun about it from you, and if you tell the Ladyblog just how poorly this went, I will throw you off the Eiffel Tower myself.”  


He let out a snort of laughter and bowed in her direction. “Agreed.”

Ladybug broke out a grin and swung from the rooftop, landing in the snow. The few people on the rink jostled each other, pointing at her. She waved slowly back, only turning around when she heard the telltale crunch of Chat landing beside her.

The manager of the rink was already running out to meet them, jabbering about what an honor it would be if he could get a picture of Paris’s famous heroes skating on his ice, and with well-meaning humor in his tone, Chat accepted. It was a deal the two of them had often taken advantage of, and odds were, the place would be packed the next day.

“Right.” Ladybug finished lacing up the skates they had borrowed and cautiously stepped to the edge of the rink. Finding skates to cover Chat’s boots had been a difficult endeavor, but with a little bit of effort, he’d made something work. He spun out onto the ice, speeding out to the skaters that begged for selfies before returning to Ladybug.

“One lap around, and then we’re done here, kitty.”

She held out a hand and he accepted it without a word. She raised her brows, but his lips were sealed. Chat wasn’t about to waste this moment for the sake of a bad joke.

They stepped onto the ice, and while Ladybug was far more graceful in her suit, she still slipped more than she wanted to. She locked her legs in place, trying to brace herself the way Adrien had suggested earlier.

“Well, your form isn’t too bad for a beginner.” He skated around her, gently grasping her gloved hand. “But you could certainly use some more practice.”

Ladybug stuck her tongue out at him and he scrunched up his nose at her.

“Just step, step, and glide.”

A cold note of a memory sent a jagged spear through her. “Is that a common thing to say?”

He frowned, shrugging. “I guess. Why?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter.” He didn’t look convinced, but as they reached the last leg of the rink, he swung around so they both faced the camera the rink manager held out at the entrance. Ladybug brushed away the spinning thoughts in her brain long enough to almost look like she knew what she was doing on the ice. Heaven knew she didn’t need her reputation tarnished by rumors that she couldn’t skate. If Alya ever found out, she’d probably line up every citizen in Paris and make them go skating, just so she could figure out which one was Ladybug.

The two successfully made it to the end of the rink and Ladybug let out a sigh of relief. It was a blessing that she hadn’t fallen once. She kicked off her skates, laughing at a disgruntled Chat – whose boots were seemingly attached to his makeshift skates – and thanked the manager. The man brushed her thanks aside with his own, shaking both of their hands formally before the two popped back onto a rooftop.

“Now, don’t say I never bring you anywhere n- _ice_.”

Ladybug smacked him gently in the arm. “You promised!”

Chat lifted both of his hands and took a step back. “ _Paw_ -lease. I said nothing about making jokes after.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes and smacked his arm again. He rubbed at it reproachfully, but the joke in his eyes died out as a wave a blue light grew behind her now-illuminated silhouette.

Ladybug blinked and he was gone, already rushing toward the akumatized victim. She followed him faithfully, stopping just along the roof’s edge.

“What does it look like?”

Chat Noir frowned, his tail hanging limply behind him. “I’m not sure.”

Below them, a tall, ovular portal had split through the intersection, billowing blue smoke and light onto the Parisian street. The two heroes couldn’t see through it, but a side view proved it to be thinner than paper – a two-dimensional spectacle.

A man stood before it, his shadow mingling with the dark smoke. His dark purple coattails swung as the fog washed over him. He turned on his heel, and Ladybug frowned as his violet lipstick and slicked back hair came into view. In his hand was a crumpled letter.

“I don’t like the look of that.” She pointed at the towering gateway, biting at her lip. “Whatever happens, don’t get too close to it until we know what it does.”

He ripped his gaze away from the akuma to look at her. “You too.” Chat squinted down at the figure, then slipped over the edge of the roof, lowering himself with his baton.

“Good evening, sir!” Chat broke his baton into two pieces, holding one in each hand.

“Good evening?” The akuma spat back, whirling to face the boy before him. “It’s anything but!”

Chat merely smirked and tilted his head to the side. “Oh, really? And why is that?”

“They rejected my wormhole theory! All of them! Unanimously!” The akumatized victim stared at the paper in his hands, trembling with rage. “But I’ll show them the truth. I am Trou de Ver,” a bright, cobalt-blue sphere of light grew in the man’s hand, “and I am the greatest astrophysicist this city has ever seen!” Once the ball was about the size of an apple, he thrust his arm out and it flattened into a disk before flying out towards Chat.

Chat jumped high out of the way and ran around the intersection, ducking for any sort of cover.

Up on her rooftop, Ladybug watched the miniature portal connect with a car, growing to swallow it whole.

_Okay._

_Definitely_ don’t touch the portal.

“Chat, watch out!” She cried, flicking her wrist to swing down to her partner. She grabbed him by his belt and tossed him up onto a rooftop with her, just as the car he was hiding behind was sucked into one of the disks.

“Well, milady, I can definitely say I’m not getting _worm, hole_ -y feelings from this guy.”

She bit her lip in frustration. There was no telling where they’d end up if Trou de Ver hit them with one of his ‘wormholes’. They’d have to be quick, in and out without giving him the slightest chance to catch them.

Chat made to stand up after his awkward collapse, sparing a glance off the roof just in time to see the akuma shooting out another ball of light. It arced up towards their building, and with a gasp, he shoved Ladybug to her feet. “Get off the roof!”

They dodged the portal, hands entwined, just barely sliding onto the next rooftop. Chat shot out his baton and caught onto a windowsill, bringing their rapid descent to a halt.

Then, the rumbling began.

The building beside them began to shake horribly, smoke swirling from the initial point of contact. The portal spread, wrapping around the edges of the building until with a flash of blue, nothing was left.

Ladybug and Chat Noir hung from his baton, motionless. The entire building. Gone. All those people. Gone. 

From their angle, they saw no sign of Trou de Ver. With any luck, the akuma would think they had been caught in the blast and was presumably being yelled at by an irate Hawkmoth.

Ladybug hung from where Chat was still grabbing her arm. She blinked slowly, and when her eyes opened, a determined light filled them.

“Chat, we need to attack now.” She tossed her yo-yo up so that it connected with the nearest chimney and pulled them up. A hint of smoke still hung in the air, with a sharp metallic scent. “Hawkmoth might be distracting the akuma. It’s our best shot.”

“Gotcha.” He perched on the edge for a visual.

“Just be stealthy about it, okay?”

“I’m a cat, stealth is my middle name.”

Ladybug took the time to roll her eyes and he protested.

“What? It’s a nice _hole_ -some joke!”

“You already made a hole pun,” she retorted. “That one doesn’t count.”

He flashed her a grin and for a moment, a strange feeling twisted in her gut – like the sight of his smile was a memory about to fade.

“Hey, Chat?” She clasped a hand on his shoulder.

Chat turned to her with troubled green eyes. “Yes, my lady?”

Embarrassment tinged her cheeks red. “Just, be careful, Chat Stealth Noir.”

He looked for a moment as though he were about to laugh, but took a second to reconsider. Then, without taking a chance to think about it, he wrapped his arms around her in a fleeting hug.

It was long enough for her to feel his warmth soak into her and for her to catch his strange scent – a gentle caress of eucalyptus and lavender. He pulled back, and with a salute, leapt off the edge of the building.

She cast her Lucky Charm as soon as he left. A red and black-spotted piece of plastic fell from the sky into her waiting palm. She examined the disk for a moment before grasping it firmly in her hand and swinging across the area to where the akuma had just spotted Chat.

Time slowed.

The akuma shot a ball of energy out at Chat, who had neither the time nor the ability to get out of the way. Ladybug cocked her arm back and sent the disk in her hand flying at her partner. Seconds before the portal hit Chat, her Lucky Charm made contact – negating it. Chat ducked forward with his hands darkened by his Cataclysm and snatched the paper from the akuma’s hand.

The dark butterfly was free, but the akuma still had one trick up his sleeve.

Ladybug was still swinging across, and with a grin, the akuma tilted his central portal toward her. A cold wave of fear washed over her as she disconnected the yo-yo from where she was swinging and desperately shot her arm out in the butterfly’s direction.

Chat’s scream was one that would keep her up at night, one that would haunt her nightmares. _“Ladybug, no!”_

If she could just –

If she could just – 

_Gotcha!_

Her yo-yo wrapped around the akuma, pulling it in toward her, but even that was not enough to stop Ladybug from breaking the surface of the portal, tugging the butterfly along with her.

She didn’t know what to expect in the barrier between worlds, but it certainly wasn’t a sea of teals and ceruleans melting together, lapping at her suit like some sort of viscous gel. Stars shone in her eyes, brilliant and blinding, and though the air was sucked from her lungs, the peace and the light and the calm of the void was no longer frightening. It was beautiful.

For a moment, she thought she had missed the butterfly, but it became clear when she saw the end of her yo-yo rushing back to meet her that she had not only purified the akuma, but was still caught in the portal.

She squinted into the blue, a strange tingling in her fingertips as she spotted a red object in the distance. She reached out an arm through the gel to propel herself forward – but the effort was too strenuous to withhold. Darkness began to encroach on her vision, and for a moment, she thought she saw herself reflected in the lights of the portal.

The last of her held breath left her lips. Ladybug turned her head toward what felt like up and began to let the shadows in her vision overwhelm her. Her eyes slid shut, leaving her in the blackness of her thoughts in her dying moments.

That was it. 

This was to be the end of the savior of Paris. After all she had faced, after keeping her identity hidden for so long… what would Alya think? Or her parents? Or even Adrien? He had already lost so much. A selfish twinge in her heart prayed that he wouldn’t be too heartbroken to know she was gone.

Green eyes flashed into her mind.

And what about Chat?

Chat had been there to watch her die. Her partner, her loyal friend, and she didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. A wave of nausea rolled over her. Chat didn’t deserve that. She couldn’t go. Not without apologizing to that stupid cat.

She wrenched her eyes open and forced a hand through the gel to where her forgotten Lucky Charm lay. She could only bear to brush the pad of her glove against it before choking out, “Miraculous Ladybug!”

With a rush of air, the portal cracked open beneath her and the gel encasing her vanished. It plopped her onto cold, hard pavement where she lay gasping for breath. Her hair clung to the back of her neck with the blue goo. She swiped at her coated eyes with fingers that didn’t want to separate and blinked slowly at the fuzzy world before her. 

She needed Chat’s help. Her body was frozen from the oxygen deprivation, but her transformation was bound to give in soon. At this point, she didn’t even care if her Miraculous failed before him, not as long as he could get her out of public sight.

“You alive, Coccinelle?”

Some of the gel must have been caught in her ears. Chat was clear as day before her, but his voice sounded wrong. Deeper and harsher, like he didn’t particularly care either way.

Ladybug coughed loudly, doubling over as she fought to breathe. She braced her hands on the ground as her Miraculous gave a warning beep. Chat still stood to the side, not moving to help her.

“Chat,” she whispered, fighting to stand. The gel was like cement, locking her limbs in place.

He cocked his head to the side. “Well, look at you. You’re quite the mess, aren’t you?”

Ladybug didn’t spare the energy to frown at him.

“Better hurry up or your transformation will run out.” He pivoted and began to walk away from her, long tail trailing on the ground.  


A hoarse call erupted from her throat, desperation clawing at her. “Chat!”

He paused, and with a surprised countenance, appraised her still-kneeling form. “Damn, I guess you are desperate.” Chat sighed, a hand on his cheek. “What to do, what to do?”

She stiffly rose all the way to her feet, dizzy. She nearly plummeted to the ground again, but Chat stepped forward and caught her roughly by the waist. “You’re pathetic, Coccinelle. You know that, right?” He frowned as she all but collapsed in his arms.

She didn’t miss the way his nose crinkled in disgust.

Chat lifted her up in his arms, and it was only when she was close to his face that she realized something was wrong. His hair was long. Longer than it had been, at least. And when he vaulted onto a roof from a truck, he hadn’t whipped out a baton to do it. In fact, this Chat had no baton, just wicked sharp claws that she was certain were being purposely dug into her side.

“Who are you?” She whispered as her Miraculous gave a final beep. She feebly pulled herself away from the stranger’s clutches. “Where is he, what’s going on?”  


The boy who held her in his arms glared down at her before dropping her on the rooftop. “You said it yourself, Coccinelle. You are my enemy, and I am yours.” He squatted next to her, a thin smile on his lips. “Never forget that.”

With a snort, he stood again and ran off, leaving a very confused Marinette on the ground with a very broken heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> -Tournt c:  
> tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scene two: introducing one incredibly confused Bridgette Dupain-Cheng and one hurt Chat Noir.

In Ladybug’s Paris, Chat Noir rushed to where the portal had vanished, taking his Lady with it. 

“Ladybug,” he whispered, a glove outstretched. The building and cars had returned, but she was yet to be seen.

The cat ears of his suit stood erect on his head as he searched for anything, any hint as to his Lady’s whereabouts. He froze in place, staring up at the spot where she had vanished.

He knew Alya had just surfaced from her little alleyway, but didn’t move to acknowledge her. The girl walked over to the former akuma and began muttering something to him, but Chat drowned it out. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about the man that had threatened her life.

Because what if she didn’t come back?

Without Ladybug, Hawkmoth would win. Without Ladybug, there would be no way to fix his damage. Without Ladybug, there was no Chat Noir.

No Chat Noir that he wanted to be, at least.

Chat caught a glimpse of the brown-eyed girl standing several yards away from him, halfheartedly raising her camera. He should have told her to put it down perhaps, or at least should have stepped away when his Miraculous began beeping. But somehow, he didn’t have the energy for that. He wanted the world to know, in some way, just how much he cared about Ladybug. That his transformation could run out and he’d still wait for her.

Another beep.

Alya fidgeted on her feet, anxiously biting her lip. Ladybug was still gone. Emergency response crews had arrived to assess the akumatized victim and those who had been caught by his powers – but they were all fine. Of course they were. That was normal.

Chat ducked his head, pressing a hand over his mouth. If she didn’t make it… he was going to be sick. He blinked quickly, not wanting to miss any sign of her. A desperate prayer weaseled its way out of him.

_”Please. Come home.”_

His desperate cry for a miracle was the only sound he heard. Even as emergency alarms rang shrilly, the sound of his own voice echoed in his mind. He had just begun to lower his outstretched hand in defeat when a miracle was just what he got.

The dark sky burst open with a flash of blue. A red and black-spotted body tumbled from the sky.

Chat didn’t waste a second. He hadn’t known it was possible to move so quickly, but somehow, somehow he’d managed to catch her before she hit the ground.

Her eyes were wide and scared, and her body shook with her deep breaths. Ladybug’s gasping would have been enough to make him carry her over to an awaiting ambulance, but the single dot left on her miraculous stopped him in his tracks. It wasn’t his right to reveal her.

Chat Noir unhooked his baton and drew them up to the top of the returned building, holding her close. He lay her down gently, waiting for her breaths to even.

“Por- _tell_ me then, Ladybug. Are you alright?”

Oh stars. His voice was shaking, bad.

He immediately turned away as a flash of pink flooded her, but refused to leave until she said something – anything.

But when she did say something, his blood ran cold.

_“Get out of here.”_ The deep growl of his Lady’s voice almost made him turn around right then and there.

Chat stepped forward a pace to give her some space. “My Lady? What’s wrong? I know you must have detransformed, but –”

“I said get out!”

He paused at the edge of the roof, his cat ears flopping down onto his forehead. “My Lady, I-I don’t understand.”

“What do you not understand about that, Cat Noir? I want you to _go_.”

He clenched a fist around his baton. She was upset – of course she was. He was such an idiot. She must feel so naked, so exposed without her mask. Their identities had always been her priority.

He hesitated before extending his weapon. His Miraculous beeped one final time. “I thought you were dead, Ladybug.”

She laughed a low, wicked laugh as he cast himself off the building. “I bet you wish I was, you damn stray.”

Chat didn’t go back to respond.

\---

Bridgette Dupain-Cheng was having a bit of a hard time getting back to her home, not that she would ever admit it to Cat.

After a brief rest, her kwami had been able to transform her, but every time she cast out her yo-yo, she heard the cracking of Cat's voice - somehow lighter and more innocent than it had ever been before.

_"I thought you were dead, Ladybug."_

She scoffed as she tumbled onto her rooftop and detransformed. She flicked open the hatch and slid onto her bed. Like that damn cat cared. Not after what had happened to them. There was a time, she supposed, when Cat Noir had just been a burden and not an enemy, but those days were long gone. She couldn't imagine ever going back.

But still, he had sounded close to tears- as though the thought of losing her was too much for him to bear. 

Uncomfortably, she tossed and turned on her bed. She needed to sleep, not to worry about that idiot. She tucked a blanket up past her chin and curled into a ball.

"Bridgette?" A thin voice called her name and she wearily reopened her eyes.

"What's wrong, Rikki?" The blankets pressed around her mouth muffled her already soft voice, but the kwami understood perfectly.

"The bakery looks different."

At that, some of the fog cleared from her head. "What do you mean?"

Normally, after a late-night akuma, Rikki would sneak down into the bakery to eat sweets while no one was around, but the kwami had come back looking flustered and bouncing with nervous energy.

"Everything's rearranged!"

Bridgette frowned, sleepiness pulling her eyelids down. "I'm sure Mama and Papa just changed things up a little. Don't," she spread her jaws wide in a yawn, "worry about it."

Within moments, she was fast asleep.

\---

Their assault hadn't gone the way they expected. 

While relations were still catatonic between Coccinelle and Cat Noir, they had both agreed to keep fighting the akuma together - even if, really, nothing was the same.

They knew better than to go anywhere near the portals. After all, the stranger the akuma weapon, the more deadly they often became. More than one innocent victim had been caught and killed in those traps.

"Cat, behind you!" Coccinelle whipped out her yo-yo, slinging it forward as Cat dodged the attack of the akuma. He dropped low to avoid one of the portals, then rebounded to send a punch flying into the victim’s gut.

Coccinelle ran at them just as Cat ripped the letter out of Trou de Ver’s fingers. The akuma snarled at the boy, who dipped out of the way and rushed back toward her. Cat shredded the paper with his razor sharp claws, releasing the dark butterfly into the night.

That should have been it.

After an hour of dodging portals and using any trick they could to get closer to the akuma, the two heroes were exhausted beyond belief. It wasn’t that the akuma was notably worse than others they had faced, but with the stress of losing trust in one another, the battle had been far more difficult. It was hard to fight without someone to watch your back.

Coccinelle flung her yo-yo toward the akuma. She had always trusted Cat to watch out for her – at least when it mattered. It was just, with recent events, things were… unpredictable.

Namely, she didn’t expect Cat to throw her into a portal.

She gasped as her body connected with its freezing surface, hardly registering what had happened. The cold immediately stole the breath from her lungs.

Desperately, she thrust her arm out, praying that there was enough humanity left in her former ally that he would grab onto her hand and pull her to safety. 

Coccinelle watched as Cat’s haunting green eyes widened and his fingers twitched by his side. His hand shot out to catch hers – but already, already she had slipped too far. He bounced back to avoid the spray of the portal as it rippled beneath Coccinelle’s body.

The tear between them had threatened everything - had ruined everything. Once, there was a time when Cat would have jumped right in after her. But now, their own destructive dance, twirling in tempo with the power of the akuma, was too much for their partnership to overcome.

Poison. They were poison and steel – weapons against each other.

Panicked, she watched as her fingertips dipped beneath the surface of the barrier. She struggled against the portal’s clutches, but to no avail.

As she vanished from their mortal plane, she caught a glimpse of Cat Noir standing perfectly straight, watching without pity as she was sucked into the void. He didn’t care, of course. The akuma was already in her weapon. He probably thought she would cleanse it and that the portal would disappear. Akuma powers always vanished in their world, even if the damage remained.

But as soon as the butterfly released, a low note of distress sank into her gut. She was trapped. As far as the portal was concerned, it had existed before the akuma and would continue to exist after.

Cradled by the gel, Coccinelle spread out her arms and sank deep into it. There was nothing to be done. Maybe that cat’s stupid luck had finally caught up with her too. Wouldn’t that be great? Death at the hands of her sworn partner. 

Her eyes slid shut, and she gave way to darkness.

All she heard were two gasped words and the world around her shattered.

\---

Bridgette woke up sweating, her bangs plastered to her forehead. She lay frozen for a moment, her limbs stiff and her fingers curled tightly around the edge of her pillow. Just a dream. Just a dream.

Just a –

She hadn’t imagined any of it.

Not even the pain in Cat’s face after she had inexplicably been brought back to life.

But that too was strange, the memory foggy. She frowned as she took in deep breaths, her pulse starting to lower to its normal beat. Cat hadn’t just leapt away as usual – he’d had something in his hands. A wand or baton of sorts. Heaven only knew how he’d ended up with something like that. Maybe his kwami had finally come through and given him a weapon like her.

A twinge of hurt crossed her features, wrinkling her brow.

What if he could cleanse akuma now? What if he didn’t _need_ her anymore?

Bridgette let out a sigh and shook her head. Whatever the case was, she had to get to school before she was late. She slipped through her morning routine with hardly a thought, only frowning when she opened her drawer and pulled out a pair of pink pants. It wasn’t that she didn’t like them, but well, she certainly hadn’t expected to see them there.

She wore shorts with almost everything – only wearing pants in the depths of winter.

Blinking furiously, she took a hurried glance around her room. Something was… wrong. Her vanity lay against a different wall than she remembered, and for some reason, her bathroom and the door that led downstairs were switched. Her breath caught in her throat and she rushed over to her desk where her diary lay.

Bridgette gasped. Her wall was littered with pictures of a boy she didn’t recognize – a boy with bright green eyes and neatly swept tufts of blonde hair. A note plastered to the wall in her own handwriting had written “Adrien Agreste” in a doodled heart.

“R-Rikki?” Bridgette whirled around, searching for her kwami.

The kwami, woken from her sleep, floated over to the ashen Bridgette. “Bridgette, what’s wrong?”

“This isn’t my room.”

Bridgette’s eyes unfocused from the red blur before her, scanning the marionettes lying scattered through the room. None of those were her designs.

Rikki glanced around. “What do you mean, Bridgette?”

“Just look!” Bridgette waved a hand at the slight changes, an unyielding tension burying itself in her chest. “Where are we?”

Rikki frowned and sat down on her desk. “You went home after the battle last night. I’m sure of that.”

A thought scratched at her, persistent. _Cat Noir_.

Her throat went dry. “The portal.” Bridgette glanced down at her hands, as though expecting to see the blue gel on her fingers. “Things have been different ever since then. Cat was acting weird and he called me Ladybug, and – ”

The kwami’s tail twitched. Bridgette was cut off by the sudden horror on Rikki’s face. “Dragg.”

“Drag?” Bridgette shook her head. “No, Cat definitely wasn’t wearing drag, he was just being kinda nice for once. Funny how concerned he was after he was the whole reason I was put into this mess.”

“No,” Rikki rolled her eyes, “Dragg! Cat Noir’s kwami.” Rikki flitted around the room, becoming nothing more than a glowing streak. “I can’t sense him. I _always_ know where he is.”

“Marinette!” A feminine voice rose from the room beneath them.

_Marinette?_ Who was Marinette?

“You’re going to be late for school!”

Oh. She was Marinette.

“Rikki,” Bridgette began, the gears turning in her mind. “What if we aren’t home? What if the wormhole spat us out in a place we didn’t mean to be? What if…” her voice cracked. Suddenly, it all made sense.

She slipped Marinette's magic box into her bag and snatched the key from the other girl’s dresser. She threw a pair of obnoxiously pink pants on and thundered down the stairs, waving at who must have been the girl’s mother before racing onto the street. With a little luck, school was still in the same place. 

\---

It was.

Bridgette stood at the entrance to the school, her hands nervously wrapped around the straps of her backpack. She had been distracted the whole way there, practicing the name Marinette on her lips, over and over. It was bad enough that she didn't even recognize her "parents" but it was far worse that she had no clue who her friends were - or her enemies.

She scuffed her flats against the ground. Marinette's mother hadn't even noticed any difference, just noting softly that for once, her daughter was ready for school early.

Bridgette started up the stairs into the school, brushing by a girl with long blonde hair pulled up into a high tail on her head. She kept her eyes mostly trained on the ground, but couldn't help but glance up at the bright yellow in the corner of her eye.

Her mouth dropped.

The girl was watching her with piercing blue eyes, scrunching her nose in dislike. Bridgette scurried off to the side, mind whirling. That girl... looked just like Allegra.

She watched from a distance as the girl trounced up the stairs, an entourage following close behind. Acting on a whim, Bridgette walked quickly to make up some of the distance. If she was this world's Allegra, maybe they were in the same class.

As individuals peeled away from the clump surrounding the girl, Bridgette picked up her pace to follow right behind her. Soon, the only ones left were the blonde, Bridgette herself, and a girl with close-cropped auburn hair. The trio turned the corner, and Bridgette nearly melted in relief. The hard part was over.

Now to figure out where she sat.

Clearly it wasn't next to the blonde, as the other girl- Sabrina, she overheard - had taken the seat without a second of hesitation.

Bridgette clenched her teeth in frustration. Kids were beginning to file into the room, a few calling out to her as she leaned against the front desk.

"Do my eyes deceive me?"

Bridgette turned to see a girl with curly, brown hair settling into a seat. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng isn't only on time for school, but is early?"

Bridgette let out a weak smile. She didn't recognize this girl at all from her world.

The other girl pushed her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose and sent her phone clattering to the desk with her other hand. "Girl, you're never gonna believe the footage I got last night."

Bridgette took the conversation as a hint to come closer, setting her bag down on the seat beside the girl.

"Oh yeah?" She cautiously replied. 

"I only got the tail end of the akuma fight, and there's a part when I dropped the camera for a while, but... you'll see why."

The akuma fight? Oh boy. She didn't exactly want to watch this Cat Noir throw Marinette into a portal.

She had just found the video when the last student entered the room. Bridgette couldn't help the sound that left her mouth, a squeak that the boy had unfortunately heard. He turned to her, his green eyes wide in concern. She smiled back, waving her fingers.

As he visibly relaxed, sinking into his seat, she realized she knew exactly where she sat. Behind Marinette's crush, Adrien Agreste.

She settled beside the brown-haired girl, who winked knowingly at her.

"Whoa, Alya, is that the fight from last night?"

Bridgette latched onto the name of the girl sitting next to her, nearly missing the boy's name as she focused on memorizing it.

"Yeah. Did you see it on the Ladyblog, Nino?"

The boy shook his head. "No, but I heard it was wicked yesterday. People said Chat was going nuts after Ladybug vanished!"

"Chat?" Bridgette echoed. _Not Cat?_

The two and Adrien turned to look at her. She let out a nervous giggle and motioned toward the phone. "Well, let me see!"

Alya shrugged, ignoring Bridgette's plea. “I wouldn’t say nuts, but I’m pretty certain it’s confirmed now.”

“What’s confirmed?”

Bridgette raised a brow as Adrien leaned back to talk to Alya. Interesting. He was certainly more interested in conversation than Félix.

Ah, Félix. Bridgette smiled lazily, her thoughts rushing back to the love of her life. Adrien certainly wasn’t bad looking, Marinette had good taste, but he was nothing compared to the Adonis that was Félix. Beautiful eyes, a jawline that could cut steel – Félix was incredible.

She let out a happy sigh.

The girl beside her nudged her with an arm, and it was only then that Bridgette realized she had been staring at Adrien. The boy was giving her a strange look, turning slightly pink from her attention.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Bridgette flushed an angry red, sitting bolt upright. “I was just… thinking. Um. What were you saying?”

Alya snickered behind a raised hand. It was then that Bridgette began to wonder how much of a secret Marinette’s crush was.

“Well, if you’ll pay attention this time, I was saying that Chat Noir is totally in love with Ladybug.”

Bridgette blinked her bluebell eyes wide, staring at Marinette’s friend. Ahead of her, Adrien had begun coughing loudly, choking on the sip of water he’d taken from the bottle on his desk.

“Dude, are you okay?” Nino leaned forward, clapping a hand on his friend’s back. Adrien waved him off.

Bridgette couldn’t help it. She began to giggle, despite herself. “Where’d that come from?”

“Um, try almost every interaction they’ve ever had together? He’s smitten!”

Bridgette turned as Adrien started coughing again, tears beginning to stream from his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he wheezed.

Alya seemed to be glowing with happiness. “Or maybe I should say he’s _kitten_ with her.”

A bubble of laughter left Bridgette. She tapped her hand against the desk as she doubled over at the very thought. Chat Noir? In love with Ladybug? That could never happen.

Alya playfully shoved her friend. “Don’t laugh!” But even as she reprimanded her, the girl joined in with her laughter. “Come on, just watch the video!”

Bridgette relented, drawing closer to the girl to watch the illuminated screen. It began with a blinding flash of the same blue that sent a stab of fear into Bridgette's gut. The camera shook as the ground rumbled, and the recorder let out a cry of shock as the building across the street vanished.

_"Come on, Ladybug!"_ Alya's voice played as smoke rippled in the distance. She seemed to focus in on a building beside it, and like she had known the heroes had made it out of the blast, Chat Noir stood on the roof, glaring down at the akuma.

The camera rushed to keep up with him as he ducked and dove around flung portals. Even the akuma looked exactly the same.

Bridgette spotted his mistake a moment before Chat did. He had backed himself into a corner. Carelessness or recklessness, she wasn't sure.

And then there she- there Marinette was - a blur of motion and fury swinging down from the rooftop Chat had jumped from.

The camera panned over to her, focusing on the fire in her brilliant eyes - eyes that Bridgette nearly shared. The hero threw her arm back and chucked a disk at Chat, who had skittered back, panting.

Bridgette watched breathlessly as the polka-dotted object saved Chat Noir from the portal. This wasn't right. This hadn't happened in their world.

Chat ducked low and snatched the papers from Trou de Ver as Ladybug swung by. They inexplicably blackened at his touch. The camera quickly expanded to show the full scene as Ladybug flew straight into the heart of the portal, having used her last few seconds to reach out and grab the akuma.

Chat Noir's scream made her wince. She couldn't help but notice how Adrien flinched at the sheer note of desperation screeched from the boy's throat.

_"Ladybug! No!"_

The camera zoomed in as the portal vanished and the akumatized victim was released. 

Chat Noir stood, tail dragging, in the middle of the intersection. Utterly distraught, anguish filled every inch of his posture. His clawed hand was still out, reaching for where Ladybug had vanished.

Bridgette sucked in a breath. From that angle... it almost looked like Chat Noir actually did care for Ladybug. She could understand why Alya had been mistaken. A dreadful weight settled in her stomach. She knew the truth. But maybe Ladybug didn't. Bridgette knew that she'd never waste her own safety with her Cat Noir. He just wasn't worth it.

The camera's focus dropped to the pavement. Unedited, mumbled conversation sounded, along with slow, unsteady footsteps. The camera slowly inched up to where Chat Noir stood, gazing at the sky as light from the street lamps poured over his face. His miraculous beeped in the night.

Blue flashed again and his fear slipped away. He darted forward several steps as a red shape fell from the sky. He nearly tripped in his attempt to catch her – not Ladybug, but Coccinelle.

Bridgette frowned. She wasn’t used to civilians sticking around long enough to catch her on video. Why was Alya doing something so dangerous?

She watched as the girl in Chat’s arms began to struggle, though she doubted that anyone watching understood why their beloved “Ladybug” was so desperate to get away from him. From his curse.

The video ended as Chat Noir swept Ladybug out of sight, onto the roof.

“Did you see Ladybug after you stopped filming?”

To Bridgette’s surprise, Adrien had spoken up first, a certain nervousness in the set of his mouth.

_Is he really that concerned about Ladybug?_

Coccinelle was praised for her work in Bridgette’s world, but did people tend to go out of their way to care for her here?

Alya frowned and set her phone back on her desk. “No. I saw Chat jump away, but not Ladybug. I hope she was alright.”

Nino slung an arm around the back of his chair. “I’m sure Chat wouldn’t have left her if there was anything wrong with her.”

“You have that much faith in him?” Bridgette snorted, resting her chin on her palm. She looked out the window briefly before turning back to Marinette’s friends. With a blink of surprise, she realized they were all staring at her.

“Marinette, what do you mean?” Alya’s frown made Bridgette sit back in surprise.

“Well, I mean, he isn’t really as important as Ladybug. He’s like a sidekick, you know? Surely he wouldn’t care that much.”

If Bridgette’s life had a manual, it could be summed up in two instructions:

1\. Open mouth.  
2\. Insert foot.

Nino’s mouth actually dropped open. A strange flush once again spread across Adrien’s cheeks. He turned to the front of the class as Ms. Bustier shut the door. Bridgette shrugged away her sudden uneasiness and opened up a pastel notebook, hoping it was the right one for the class.

Alya jabbed her in the side with a finger, lowering her voice to a whisper. “What was that, Marinette?”

“What was what?” She retorted.

“You sound like Chloe! Chat Noir is way more than just a sidekick. He’s her partner.”

Bridgette raised a brow.

“Ladybug’s said it herself! He’s head over heels for her!”

“Whatever,” Bridgette snapped back, digging the tip of her pencil into her desk. “I just don’t like him, okay?”

Alya had just opened her mouth to respond when Ms. Bustier loudly said,

“Marinette, while it’s quite the change for you to be on time for my class for once, I will not tolerate speaking while I’m teaching.” Their teacher glared daggers at her.

Bridgette sheepishly apologized and buried her head in her notebook, ignoring Alya’s disapproving stare.

It was going to be a long, long day.

\---

A long day that, coincidentally, had been to Hell and back by lunchtime.

Bridgette had not only managed to get lost on the way to every single one of Marinette’s classes (realizing only afterwards that if she’d just followed Alya she wouldn’t have had a problem), but had somehow managed to get Marinette’s best friend even angrier with her by not apologizing.

Bridgette took in a deep breath as she sat on the pale steps of Dupoint, digging in her bag for Marinette’s diary. With a little luck, it would explain some things, like whether or not she knew anything about Chat Noir’s curse. Not like luck had been working well for her lately.

A shadow loomed over the page she had begun to read and she rapidly slammed the journal shut. She glared up at the figure above her, only relaxing when she realized that it was Marinette’s crush.

Alex?

Andrew?

_Adrien._

Ah, she’d get the name soon enough. But if she was going to live Marinette’s life, then she owed the girl the favor of getting along with her crush.

“Hey,” she began, dropping the book on her lap. “What’s up?” She leaned back against the step behind her, bracing her elbows against it.

He blinked, almost as though surprised. “I didn’t know that you didn’t like Chat Noir. How long have you, like, felt that way?”

It was Bridgette’s turn to be confused. Why was everyone so set on believing he was such a good guy?

She shook her head. “I couldn’t really put a date on it, I just don’t like him.”

“Is it the puns?”

Bridgette cocked her head to the side. “Puns?”

She could have sworn Agreste had to fight to get the words out. “Y-yeah. You know, he makes those lame cat jokes?”

_“Are you okay? You look positively claw-ful, Coccinelle. Oh, oh my goodness, I’m sorry, that’s your normal look.”_

_“Jeez, you smell rather ap-paw-ling today!”_

_“Paw-don me, but today you look hiss-gusting.”_

Bridgette worked her jaw, fuming at all the cheap insults he’d come up with recently. “Yeah. You could say it’s the puns.”

“Oh.” Adrien adjusted the bag on his shoulder. “He saved you once, though, didn’t he?”

She blinked up at him. “What?” Cat Noir had never saved Bridgette in her world.

“Yeah, before the video game tournament? When Max was akumatized?” Adrien finally dropped his bag beside her and sat down. “And that time when Nathaniel became the Evillustrator?”

Bridgette nervously turned away from him. She couldn’t remember any of that, of course. She only hoped that once she got through Marinette’s diary that things would be much clearer.

“Yeah, I suppose. But that’s his job, isn’t it?”

Adrien seemed to deflate a little. “Right. That’s his job.” He picked at the laces of his orange sneakers. “He didn’t… he didn’t do anything to you, did he?”

Bridgette curled a strand from her pigtails around her finger. How was she supposed to answer that? “No, I just… I think… I…” she sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

When she turned to face him again, he was staring at her hair. His fixation only dropped after she leaned back to catch him in the eye. Adrien swung his bag back over his shoulder and stood, nervously rambling. “Okay- I’ll see you around, Marinette! Bye!”

And as he vanished into the building, leaving her alone on the worn steps, she couldn’t help but raise a hand to her pigtails. She curled her fingers into the strands, tugging them into knots, and pulled Marinette’s phone out of her pocket.

Their passwords had been the same, thankfully, but Bridgette hadn’t had much time to go through the device between classes. Holding her breath, she tapped her photos open and took a glance at Marinette’s most recent selfies.

She mouthed a curse under her breath.

Marinette and Bridgette had one clear-cut difference between each other.

Marinette had hair that barely reached her shoulders. Bridgette’s hair swept down her back.

And Adrien Agreste had clearly noticed the change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, so just a quick note here – I’m pretty certain you might be a bit confused as to why Coccinelle and Cat hate each other, but I promise you, there is a reason and everything will be explained.
> 
> Also, PV Chat didn’t have a baton at his waist, so that’s why Cat doesn’t. PV Ladybug didn’t have a yo-yo, but I felt like that was important to keep. As well, in their world, since the PV was so much darker, damage from akuma attacks lasts. Akuma related aspects will vanish and things somewhat go back to normal, but if something is destroyed, it stays destroyed. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> -Tournt c:
> 
> Check out information on updates at:  
> tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Sorry for the wait! This chapter is actually almost 2,000 words longer than the last two, so hopefully that makes up for it.

_Breathe, just breathe._

Marinette lay in a fetal position on the roof of the Parisian building, her body shaking with cold and exhaustion. Tikki wearily curled next to her in silent support, resting against her master’s hands.

Why had Chat done that?

A sob wrenched itself out of Marinette’s throat before she could help it. Tikki’s eyes widened in dismay, but Marinette buried her face into the concrete beneath her to give herself a moment.

Chat had abandoned her. Chat had abandoned her. Chat had… called her Coccinelle. Of all the nicknames he’d come up with for her, the French word for Ladybug had to be the most unoriginal. She would have laughed if she’d had the heart to.

But Chat Noir, her partner, had cast her aside as though she were nothing – going so far as to call her an enemy. She couldn’t imagine what sort of lies the akuma had filled his mind with in her absence, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She only hoped that her partner would be back to normal soon. Miraculous Ladybug could fix anything, right?

Tikki rose from her position on the ground, weariness dulling her normally vibrant energy. “Marinette, we have to go!”

The girl gazed at her with hollow eyes.

Tikki put a hand on the girl’s cheek. “Your lips are turning blue – you need to go home!”

“But Tikki, you can’t transform me. We’re stuck up here!”

The kwami was undeterred. “I can do it.” She planted a hand on her hip. “Just go quickly.”

Marinette frowned. Chat wasn’t coming back. No one was coming for her. She blinked slowly, then propped herself up on an arm.

“Tikki, spots on.”

The transformation was weak, her suit thin against her skin. Ladybug sat up slowly, traces of warmth trickling into her veins from Tikki’s energy. None of the portal’s gel could be seen. She unhooked her yo-yo at a snail’s pace, emptying her thoughts. All that mattered was getting home.

Ladybug soared through Paris, not seeing anything as she dove through the night. She relied on the power of her suit to navigate back home, but as soon as she fell onto her balcony, the transformation wore out and Tikki slipped into her hands. Cradling the kwami, Marinette gently reached out for the handle to the trap door that led into her room. Dimly, she realized that the handle wasn’t quite where she expected. Instead, it was on the opposite end of the piece of glass.

Disregarding it through her haze, Marinette slipped inside, latched her door, and collapsed onto her bed.

Many hours later, Marinette groggily awoke to the sound of a text notification on her phone. She rolled over, hissing as her sore muscles stretched to accommodate her motion.

_Where are you?_

Marinette glanced at the time on her screen. Late again for school. With a little luck, she could convince her parents to call her out sick.

She swiped across to answer, typing back a short reply.

_Not feeling so great._

Marinette rubbed at her eye, then ran a hand through her hair. Her bangs were still snarled and greasy from the night before.

She sharply inhaled and sat up as the memory came running back. Just what the _Hell_ had Chat been thinking? After she’d cleansed the akuma, it shouldn’t have been able to continue influencing him.

That meant… that everything he’d said had been him!

What a stupid cat.

She rolled her eyes and drew her covers back. It wasn’t that they hadn’t had fights before, but to go so far as to call her an enemy? Someone must have rubbed his fur the wrong way.

Marinette stood on unsteady feet and stretched her arms high over her head. She yawned into a cupped hand and threw open the door that led down into the kitchen.

She smiled at her mother, who was facing the other direction.

“Morning, Maman!”

The woman turned just as Marinette reached out to grab a croissant. She froze, and the piece of bread dropped from her hand. The unfamiliar woman before her giggled.

“Careful, Bridgette!”

Marinette’s mouth dropped.

The woman almost looked like her Maman, but had longer hair and a narrower face. She was also significantly taller – almost Marinette’s height.

She pressed a croissant into Marinette’s hand with a smile and, humming, returned to cleaning off the counter. Marinette didn’t waste any time before backing out of the kitchen and running back up to her room.

“What’s wrong, Marinette?” Tikki popped out of her hiding spot almost as soon as Marinette slammed her bedroom door shut.

Marinette stood frozen, hands brushing her bangs back from her face. That wasn’t her Maman. That was _not_ her Maman.

And this, she mused as she took in the room, was not her home.

Wide-eyed, Marinette stumbled forward and rushed over to her desk, her phone, her chaise longue. All of the pictures of Adrien were gone, along with several of her clothing designs. Marinette tapped at the screen of her phone, only to find that the text she had sent had not been to Alya, but rather to someone named Allegra.

And her phone background!

The image of a boy staring up at her with cool, blue eyes lay behind a series of apps that the other girl, that Bridgette, had downloaded. It was clearly taken from a magazine cover, and was just grainy enough to suggest she had taken it herself, rather than looking for an online version of the image.

Marinette scooped up a pillow and let out a squeal into it. This wasn’t good. In fact, this was the exact opposite of good.

Tikki alighted on the cushion of her chaise longue, looking down at the girl with concern. “Marinette!”

“Tikki,” Marinette removed her mouth from the pillow to whisper. “Where are we?”

The kwami sighed and flew up to Marinette’s disheveled hair, patting the girl’s head. “I didn’t want to bother you, but… I can’t sense Plagg.”

Marinette began to unpeel her fingers from their death clutch. “Chat Noir’s kwami, right?” The room suddenly swam before her vision as panic sank deep into her gut.

“Right.” Tikki tugged back a lock of Marinette’s hair from her forehead, an oddly comforting gesture. “This has never happened before. We _always_ know where the other is.”

Marinette finally dropped the embroidered pillow to the ground and scooped up Tikki, who was trembling slightly.

“Tikki,” she repeated, “where are we?”

“I think we’re someplace else.” The kwami seemed to shrink in on herself. “I think something went wrong with the wormhole. We aren’t home.”

“Then Bridgette?”

“Is likely you.”

“And with what Chat said yesterday?”

Tikki’s troubled frown was enough of an answer. “Something is wrong between this world’s Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Marinette let out a low groan. “Then where is she? Where’s Bridgette?”

“Well,” Tikki suggested, “if you’re here, then maybe… she’s back home?”

Marinette leaned against a corner of the room, sighing and sinking to the ground. She cradled Tikki in her hands carefully, thinking. Her head thumped against the wall.

She took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm down. “How do I fix this? How do we get home?”

The little creature hesitated before offering a consoling smile. “You’re Ladybug.” She nodded once, as though reassuring herself as well. “If anyone could find a way, you can! You were chosen for a reason, Marinette. You might be the only one who can fix this.”

Marinette bit her lip, but nodded resolutely. The fear began to ebb away, replaced by a mere discomfort. “You’re always right, aren’t you Tikki?” She tapped a finger to the spot on the kwami’s head.

She let out a giggle. “And don’t forget, you aren’t alone! I’m here!”

“And I’m so grateful for that,” Marinette let out a nervous giggle. “I don’t know what I’d be doing without you.”

“Screaming, probably.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, and with a haughty laugh, replied, “I would _not_ be screaming.”

Tikki shot her a look that said she thought otherwise, but didn’t contest the point. 

“First things first, you should get to school so poor Bridgette doesn’t get in trouble. There’s no sense in making things worse for her.”

Marinette finally lifted her chin. She took in a deep breath and lifted herself off the ground. “Yeah. Besides, it’ll be a piece of cake, right? I just have to live my normal life, and it’ll be fine!”

Tikki floated onto the dresser, waiting as Marinette tossed open the door that led downstairs.

“Wait, Marinette!” She called.

The girl paused, staring at her with wide, blue eyes.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Marinette glanced down at her pajamas, and with a little yelp, slammed the door shut. She vanished into the bathroom to take a shower.

It was only once the door was shut that Tikki shook her head and frowned. She floated over to the window and let the pain of her partner’s distance wash over her.

\---

Marinette snuck around the entrance of Bridgette’s school, keeping her head down. With a little luck, she could avoid running into anyone that would try to drag her into conversation.

Bridgette’s mother had been sympathetic when Marinette bluffed her way through feeling ill, and had been perfectly fine with writing her a note to be late to class. By the time Marinette had gotten her thoughts in order and read through a few pages of Bridgette’s diary, it had already been time for lunch.

With a final, resolute nod, Marinette had slung Bridgette’s bag over her shoulder and hit the streets. Thankfully, the girl had written down her schedule within the first few pages of the journal, and with a little trial and error, Marinette would be able to find the rooms without a hitch.

Marinette had laughed aloud at Bridgette’s description of some guy named Félix, who apparently was her entire world.

_He has the most dazzling grey-blue, glue(?), no not glue, brey(?), no that doesn’t work either, eyes. His hair is always so neatly styled and his cheekbones are just… to die for! Not to mention his jawline…_

But not long after, a new detail had slapped her across the face. Bridgette had written “Bridgette Agreste” along the margins of one of the pages, scrawled all over with a bunch of hearts.

The color faded from her cheeks. An Agreste? Oh no. She could hardly stand being in this world anyways, and she had to deal with another Agreste? What if he looked like Adrien? What if she made a fool of herself in front of him? Bridgette would never forgive her!

She had voiced the comments aloud to an unusually quiet Tikki. Since the world-shift, the kwami hadn’t been quite the same.

Marinette had slipped her a cookie, and with a deep breath, promised that things would be just fine.

Just fine until Marinette slammed into a girl that looked remarkably like Chloe.

With a squeak, Marinette jumped back, ready for the fight the girl was about to pick with her. Bumping into Chloe was an insult, but nearly sending her to the ground like that was a fatal mistake.

But much to Marinette’s surprise, the girl bounced back and wrapped her arms around her.

“Bridgette!”

Nervously, Marinette gently patted the girl on the back in a half-hearted hug. “H-hi!”

“You had me so worried! You never get sick!”

Marinette drew back and let out a dry, fake cough. The girl’s blue eyes widened with concern. She picked anxiously at her long, blonde braid.

Marinette had only told one person about being sick.

“I’m okay, Allegra. Don’t worry about it.”

Allegra yanked at her hand and hooked elbows with Marinette. “I have to worry! I’m your best friend!”

The notion almost made Marinette giggle. What were the odds that Chloe was her friend in another world?

Allegra had been mentioned in the diary, so Marinette was well aware that the girl was in nearly all of her classes.

“Come on, let’s go to class.” Marinette tugged the girl forward, falling into an easy rhythm as she was led away.

As they walked away, Marinette took in a better view of the girl beside her. Whereas Chloe stuck to shades of yellow for most of her outfits, Allegra was wearing a simple, purple vest with lilac diamonds knit across the fabric, all over a white blouse. As well, rather than the white flats Chloe often sported, Allegra had a pair of fashionable, yet non-designer sandals.

Allegra finally released Marinette’s arm as she drew closer to a thick, wooden door. She slipped through the entrance, and with a swift breath, Marinette followed.

The room was painted a cool white, with an undertone of a soft blue. Marinette paused at the entrance, absorbing the details. With the high tables and sinks along the walls, it was clearly a lab. She glanced at the board, and with a jolt of surprise, realized that she not only recognized how to solve the equations listed, but that they were the exact same ones she had suffered through in her last Physics class (with a little help from Adrien).

Relief nearly overwhelmed her. She let out a little, happy sigh, and whirled to where Allegra was pulling out her seat. Already, the girl’s attention had moved elsewhere.

With a thin smile, Marinette hefted her bag higher on her back and began walking down the aisle to where she assumed her seat was. She had just stepped past the front row when she halted rather abruptly and shambled back.

Sitting in the seat in front of her was a boy with slicked-back, blonde hair and an uncanny resemblance to Adrien. He slid a notebook onto his desk and began to work on the problem on the board, ignoring Marinette’s stare. She cocked her head to the side to try and catch a name on his work, to which he promptly covered his answer to the problem. Sheepishly, she waved her fingers in the form of a slight greeting, freezing when he turned his gaze to her.

Rather than the way Adrien’s warmth made her melt, a sense of wrongness, of ice stabbed through her as Félix lifted his hardened expression toward her.

Those beautiful eyes were nothing but a trap.

She lowered her hand and nodded in his direction, muttering a ‘good morning’. He blinked slowly at her before returning to his work with a curt nod.

Marinette suppressed a shiver as she took her seat. There was no doubt in her mind that that was Bridgette’s Félix, but much to her surprise, he seemed to be nothing like Adrien. But then again, she had gotten a bad first impression of Adrien too. Regardless, she owed it to Bridgette to try and get along with the boy.

She shook her head and dug out Bridgette’s Physics book. She had gotten halfway through the warm-up problem when Allegra grabbed her attention again.

“Bridgette, you cut your hair?”

Marinette’s hand flew to the end of her pigtails. She grinned awkwardly and tugged at the broken strands. “Y-yeah. Do you like it?”

Allegra let out a noncommittal sound, but let the topic drop.

The class went by so smoothly that the bell's shrill ring spooked Marinette. Her pencil clattered to her desk, but a reassuring smile from Allegra set her nerves at ease. Marinette packed up Bridgette's belongings and stood from her seat. She felt Félix's cool gaze resting on her as she followed Allegra out.

"So, Bridgette."

Marinette's head snapped toward Allegra, who had crossed her arms with a knowing smirk.

"Y-yeah?"

"Not poking the bear today?"

Poking the bear? What on Earth could she mean?

Marinette fumbled for a response, but the girl didn't let her get a word in edgewise. 

"He looked so shocked when all you said was good morning!" The blonde snickered to herself, but playfully jostled Marinette to show she wasn't serious.

Marinette elbowed the girl back, laughing. "That's what you meant by poking the bear? Stars, Allegra. I was worried for a second."

"It's not my fault you're always hanging all over him."

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

Too late, Marinette realized they were talking about how Bridgette acted around Félix, rather than how she acted around Adrien. 

Marinette stuck her tongue out at the girl, who reciprocated the action. She tugged the door to their next class wider and Marinette sidled into the seat next to her. Only one more class and she was free to leave and find her way back home. To her real home, with her real friends.

Marinette somehow wasn't surprised when Félix took the seat behind them. It was a wonder that Bridgette could focus in the class.

The bell rang.

Marinette cast away her thoughts on Félix and leaned to catch the course title written on Allegra's notebook. French Literature.

While it wasn't her favorite class, it was one that she was familiar with. She dug out Bridgette's textbook and leaned back in her seat. With the present crisis averted, she could finally spare a thought to her predicament.

Or, so she thought.

"Oh my gosh."

Marinette’s brow rose as Allegra thrust a screen in front of her face.

“Have you seen this?”

She frowned. “Seen what?”

“Didn’t you hear about the akuma attack last night?”

“What about it?”

“What about it?” Allegra’s mouth dropped. “Cat Noir tried to kill Coccinelle last night!”

Marinette frowned first, and then realized exactly what Allegra had said. She went entirely rigid, her muscles tight. Her mind came to a standstill, her thoughts stopping in their tracks. She barely stuttered out, “He did what?”

“ _Local Restaurant Catches Superhero Duo on Video, Only to Reveal Shocking Twist_.” Allegra read aloud, her eyes trained on the article before her. Before Marinette could protest, the girl opened the video that was attached.

The film was taken in black and white, making it difficult to distinguish the features of the people involved. A blur of darkness jetted across the screen, limbs extended toward the silhouette of a girl illuminated by an otherworldly light. The dark shape slammed into the heroine, a long tail dragging behind him in the city street. For one heart-wrenching moment, they seemed to reach for each other, but then the darker figure danced back and watched as the light expanded to swallow the girl whole.

The video cut out.

Marinette sat, frowning as the screen turned to black. “Is that it?” While it was clearly Cat Noir and Coccinelle, without context, the scene was nothing more than a tabloid piece. It could have easily been edited to show an untruth.

“What do you mean, ‘is that it?’” Allegra sniffed, turning her nose up in the air and crossing her arms. “I knew it from the start. That Cat is no good. Poor Coccinelle.”

Marinette was silent, her mind turning over. A flame, hot and fast, burned in her core, sending off little sparks of annoyance. It couldn’t be that simple. It couldn’t be.

“Something must be missing.”

Allegra rolled her eyes. “Bridgette, what are you talking about?”

“I mean,” Marinette snapped back, suddenly defensive, “that I don’t think someone who spent their life trying to save Paris would endanger it by hurting Coccinelle!”

Her voice was louder than she’d meant it to be. She glared down at her desk, ignoring curious stares. Allegra bit her painted lip.

“What’s wrong with you today? First, you cut your hair, then you wander around looking like a lost puppy, and now you’re defending Cat Noir? Are you feeling okay?”

Marinette clenched the pencil in her fist tighter. “They’re partners, Allegra. He wouldn’t do that to her without reason. Something else happened that the camera didn’t catch. You saw how blurry and grainy it was. I’m sure there’s a perfectly valid explanation.”

“Partners?”

Marinette blinked in surprise as a new voice entered the conversation. She turned to glance back at Félix, who, though frowning, no longer seemed as removed from the world.

“Yeah, they’re partners.”

He tilted his head, considering. His blue eyes flicked up to the ceiling in thought. “They haven’t been acting like partners lately, Bridgette.”

Marinette relaxed her fist, releasing the pencil.

“Just because they’re having a fight doesn’t mean that they aren’t partners. They need each other.”

Allegra leaned back on two legs of her chair. “Félix is right, Bridgette. It’s like they hate each other.”

Marinette stubbornly shook her head. “They’re superheroes. They’re La- Coccinelle,” she hardly caught herself, “and Cat Noir. Together they can fix anything. Have a little more faith in them, Allegra.”

The girl plopped back down in her seat, not responding. Marinette dared a glance back at Félix, but he was patiently waiting for class to start with his eyes trained on the board before them.

“I understand if you think there’s a rift between them, Félix.” The name was heavy on her tongue, not rolling gently the way Adrien’s did. “But, if you trust them, they can fix anything.”

His attention fixed on her for just the slightest of moments, but he remained expressionless. “Pity that I don’t.” He straightened in his seat, swiftly returning his focus to the class at hand. It was almost as though he’d said nothing at all.

That was, until he added:

“Coccinelle is a fool if she thinks she can take down Papillon. She'll die in the process. Maybe Cat Noir was just trying to make the inevitable easier for her. Better death by a _partner_ than a hopeless bloodbath with Papillon.” A sneer curled his lip.

Belligerent, Marinette snapped back, “Cat Noir would never do that.”

The snarl fell from his expression. He regarded her carefully, and she had the strange feeling that he saw straight through her disguise as Bridgette. “You have a lot of faith in him.”

“I have a lot of faith in _them_. They'll defeat Papillon and protect Paris, and you," she jabbed a finger in his direction, "have no right to doubt them. They need the support of each and every citizen to do their job and save us."

Surprisingly, the corner of his mouth raised in a half smile. "Awfully full of dreams today, aren't we Bridgette?"

Marinette scoffed, but matched his smirk. "I prefer to think about reality, thank you very much."

The faintly amused smile didn't fade from his lips as class began, even though Marinette's vanished instantly. She was ruining Bridgette's chances left and right. Although, she frowned, she wasn't so sure that she wanted her alternate self anywhere near this guy. Maybe it would be a favor to make him hate her. 

Marinette was pretty certain her cheeks were turning red under the weight of Félix and Allegra’s denial. How could Bridgette stand to hang out with someone who didn’t even believe in Cat Noir?

Unless… unless Bridgette thought the same way.

Sickness coiled within Marinette, digging deep into her gut. She remembered that something had been wrong with Cat Noir the previous night, but it couldn’t be true, could it? Did Cat Noir and Coccinelle truly hate each other?

Ahead of her, the teacher began droning through a lesson on the effects of literature on history. She took notes with a half-distracted mind. Whatever the case, she had to read more of Bridgette’s diary. That could give her some answers.

“… and Bridgette.”

Marinette sat bolt upright as the teacher called Bridgette’s name, writing it on the board.

“You two have _La Chanson de Roland_.”

Marinette jotted down the classic story in the margins of the notebook, confused. She hadn’t been paying enough attention. The teacher turned from the board and began handing out a weighty presentation rubric. Marinette stared at it in dismay as the other kids began to whisper to one another about their assigned projects.

After flipping through a few pages, Marinette frowned and turned to Allegra. It looked like she wouldn’t be getting much of a break with school, even in Bridgette’s world.

“So, where do you want to start?”

The words had just left Marinette’s mouth when she realized that the girl was speaking with another classmate about a different story. Marinette whipped her head to the board, mouth parting in surprise. Bridgette’s name was written right next to… Félix’s.

She slowly turned in her seat, a furious flush working its way from her cheeks down her neck. He glowered at her, obviously unwilling to work with her on the project.

She smiled gently, but he was having none of it. Especially not after the spat they’d just had.

“Look, let’s just get this over with. Can you meet me in the library after school?”

His brusque voice shocked her back to her senses. This wasn’t Adrien. This wasn’t Adrien.

This was… kind of a douche.

Marinette nodded her assent and turned back to the packet, beginning to outline potential points to consider. Even if she wouldn’t be here for the presentation, she trusted that her other self would keep up with her classwork in the meantime.

As it would turn out, the professor had allocated the rest of the class to research, so with a pass in her hands and Bridgette’s bag on her shoulders, she followed Félix’s brisk gait down the stairs and into the library. He tugged at the sleeve of his dress shirt and placed his bag down gently on a table.

She attempted to make conversation with him a few times, but after several noncommittal answers and eventually ignoring her, she finally stopped and dug into her research.

It didn’t bother her to spend the rest of the block studying silently, and as the time went by, some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to melt away. In fact, he almost seemed content to sit silently in the library with his nose in a book. Marinette could understand that, at least. If he was more of an introvert than she was, she had no right to force him into unwanted conversation. She knew that Alya had roped her into more than one unwanted situation with Adrien.

When the bell rang, Marinette kicked back her chair to pack up her belongings and nearly startled him out of his wits. She took a step back and he held a hand over his heart, an almost comical expression on his face.

“You scared me.”

“I only stood up.”

“Well, yeah, but you were so quiet that I forgot you were there!”

Taking the hasty explanation as an invitation to talk to him, she replied with a laugh, “That’s not my fault. It _is_ a group project. You should have remembered.” With a grin, she held out a hand. “Care to finish this tomorrow? I can finish my part at home and put it together with you after school.” She sheepishly raised a hand to her pigtail. “I just remembered that I have something I really need to get done tonight, so I can’t stay after.”

He stared at her hand for a moment, unsure. Then, with a change of heart, he reached out and shook it firmly. “That’s fine. I can do this part by myself.”

He still didn’t quite look happy, but perhaps, surrounded by the quiet of the library, he wasn’t as upset anymore.

Taking it as a victory, she waved a quick farewell and retreated from the library, scooping up her books and heading for the front door.

Finally she could take a minute and come up with a way to-

A bloodcurdling scream stopped her in her tracks.

Damn it all.

There was only one thing that could cause a scream like that in the City of Paris.

She immediately changed directions, racing toward a nearby alcove. It wasn’t much, but with a little luck, it would keep her out of sight.

Marinette had just popped open her bag when someone dressed in black came sprinting around the corner. His green eyes narrowed and his tail lashed from side to side as he waited for her to move. 

“Well?” He prompted. “Move already! Get out of here!”

Nodding, Marinette leapt from the alcove and raced through the halls of the school, heart thumping painfully in her chest. She glanced back and Cat Noir had disappeared.

Without wasting another second, she called on her transformation and ducked out a window into the school’s courtyard. Before her, Cat was at a standoff with a woman.

Her long, brown hair was pulled back tightly against her scalp, the russet skirt of her dress swinging from where her dark wings kept her aloft. A belt of sand-colored fabric swung low across her hips, a brown butterfly embroidered in the center. The yellow mask across her face stretched out in a curved beak.

Cat had apparently had just engaged the enemy, as she had just begun to monologue.

“I am Falcon!” She bellowed down at Cat, who pointedly examined his claws. “For too long, humans have been abusing falcons and keeping them in captivity to do their will!”

Falcon began to float down from the sky, the heels of her black boots clicking down softly. She held out an arm, and a shadowy falcon soared from the rooftop to land on her black glove.

“Carefully, Birdie,” Cat’s voice was soft. He hadn’t even looked up from his hands yet. “Cats eat things like you for breakfast.”

The akumatized victim smiled beneath her half mask. “I think it’s about time we put humans in a cage.” She whistled once and the bird’s wings rose.

Cat leapt to the side as the falcon came tearing at him. With a snarl, he bounded forward to close some of the distance between himself and the victim.

Falcon summoned another bird to her side, but as soon as it was released, Ladybug shot out her yo-yo and knocked it from the air with a screech. She ducked toward her partner’s side, spinning her yo-yo in a protective circle.

Ladybug flicked her wrist toward the victim, but the girl took to the skies and flew just out of range. Ladybug turned to call to Cat Noir, but he had already vanished. Distracted, she missed one of the birds and it swiftly gouged a cut in her cheek.

She let out a cry of shock and swept it away with a hand. She passed her weapon through its shadowy body, and it vanished. A little ways away, Cat was being attacked too, and while the claws of his suit were ripping through their bodies, there were too many of them.

Falcon flew up to the rooftop, laughing. “In just a moment, my darling birds will have had their fun and I’ll have your Miraculouses!”

Ladybug growled and knocked a handful of falcons away from her partner, whose forehead and cheeks had been slashed by the birds. Thick, hot blood ran down his mask and shirtfront. She grabbed his arm and tossed her yo-yo up, pulling them both away from the birds’ talons.

She swung away quickly enough that the birds couldn’t keep up, though they were no doubt tracking them down. Ladybug let Cat Noir down on a rooftop for a moment, and he immediately raised a glove to his bloodied face.

“Are you alright?”

“Do I look alright?” He snarled. “Look, I don’t know about you, Coccinelle, but some of us need our looks to get us places in life. How am I supposed to explain this?”

She took a step away from him, a hand on her hip. She lazily swung her yo-yo up and down while he complained.

“We need a plan.”

“We have a plan – attack until we get lucky enough to get the akuma.”

Ladybug shook her head. The shadows of Falcon were drawing nearer. “Stay here – I have an idea.”

His mouth dropped as she swung across to the next roof and vanished. Within moments, the birds were on him again.

He raced around the top of the building, hurdling air vents and doubtlessly cutting rifts into the concrete with his razor-sharp claws. Falcon landed on the rooftop, smiling lightly.

“What was that about cats eating birds for breakfast?”

In response, Cat punched one of her birds out of the sky.

Her grin dropped and with a grimace, she summoned one, last bird to her wrist. She advanced mercilessly. He was cornered on the edge of the building, with nothing to jump down onto below.

She held her wrist out to the side and parted her lips to whistle.

Ladybug resurfaced onto the roof, behind the akumatized victim, and threw her arm into the sky. “Lucky Charm!”

Falcon paused. Cat stared at her, face blank in disbelief. “Coccinelle, what the He-”

After a shower of pink sparks, a small polka-dotted object fell from the sky, landing snugly in her palm. The leather was stiff and the feathers too shiny, but the decoy bird gave her an idea.

She glanced back at Chat, her vision highlighting the bird that was on its way to him.

His green eyes had widened in shock, and though the bird was likely to push him off the edge, he kept his eyes fixed on her.

Ladybug chucked the lure out in front of the bird, and it swiftly switched targets, swooping low to scoop it up. She cocked back her arm and wrapped her weapon around the glove on Falcon’s wrist, ripping it off.

The purple akuma came fluttering out as the seams of the glove split.

“No more evil-doing for you, little akuma.” A wave of relief washed over her. “Time to de-evilize!”

Once the bug had been captured and released, she picked up the little lure and tossed it into the sky with the same flare she usually had. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

If Cat had been confused before, he completely lost it as the item vanished and little ladybugs came pouring out of the space above her. She smiled as they fixed the damage the akuma had made, hardly even noticing that anything was amiss.

Ladybugs swept over Cat’s face and he waved them away. He blinked at her, uncomprehending as his pain vanished. He pressed a hand to his cheek, and when it didn’t come back bloodstained, he tested it again.

His voice was a little hoarse. “How did… how did you do that?”

Ladybug blinked down at him. “Do what?”

“Any of that.” He swallowed and his voice nearly cracked. " _Coccinelle_.” 

Her Miraculous beeped.

“What the Hell was that?”

Ladybug took a step back, uneasy. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What did I do wrong?”

The ears flopped onto his forehead. He turned away from her. “Fine.” Something had changed just then. He withdrew into himself once more. “I wouldn’t expect you to explain yourself to your enemy, after all.”

She could tell the words had meant to come out angry, but to her, they sounded more broken.

“Chat,” she whispered, wringing her hands together.

“Never mind, Coccinelle. Just leave me alone. I don’t know why you even bothered to save me.”

He squatted on the edge of the rooftop, his Miraculous beeping.

“Wait, Cat!”

He paused, but didn’t turn to her.

She had a million questions for him, but only one chance to get something useful from him. “Why is your Miraculous beeping? You didn’t use Cataclysm.”

That garnered his attention. He whipped around to her. “What the bloody Hell is Cataclysm? What’s wrong with you today? The moment the akuma’s cleansed, our Miraculouses give in. That’s how it’s always been!”

Ladybug cringed and stepped back.

“The longer we stay transformed for selfish reasons, the worse our luck gets. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go before my life gets any worse.” He stopped himself from vaulting off the edge to add, “but with you around, I doubt it could. I’ve already hit rock bottom to have you as my _partner_.”

He launched off the roof then, leaping down onto a lower building before hitting the streets. Ladybug didn’t wait around this time, instead leaping away and detransforming a block away from her home. She crept out of the shadows of the alley and turned to face the setting sun.

She blinked through the haze of reds and oranges, standing still on the sidewalk as hoards of passerby stepped around her.

Through her purse, Tikki pressed fondly against her leg, as though sensing her worries.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to go home more than anything. To see Alya, to see her parents, to see Adrien. All of them. But…

A sharp wind cut across the street, the chill cutting into her cheeks. She rubbed her arms thoughtfully.

She couldn’t leave. Not yet.

No matter what happened, Cat Noir was her partner. She had to fix things for him. For them.

With her mind made up and a brave tug in her heart, Marinette took a step forward – a step into Bridgette’s world without any hesitation. Cat Noir and Coccinelle had fallen, but they would never stay down.

_The sun may be setting now, but it will rise again. I will make it rise again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys like longer chapters? Like, was that okay or annoying? Please let me know in the comments!
> 
> Also, we totally hit over 100 kudos! Thank you guys so much, it's so cool of you guys to leave them I just... I don't have words for how absolutely overjoyed I am. I want to write to make others happy, and it's just really nice for me to know that you like my stuff enough to leave a kudos <3
> 
> Sidenote: about halfway through this chapter, I started to do research on French high schools, and from what I can tell, I've already messed it up. I didn't really understand it all that well, but from my understanding, if you take a series of language based courses, you wouldn't have the same math/science classes. I'm sorry for my error, but at this point, I don't want to change it.
> 
> Please forgive this ignorant American. I'll try to do better :c
> 
> <3 Tournt  
> tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have fun with this kinda awful chapter. The first half is kinda rough, but I like the second POV...
> 
> tl;dr, Poor writing in comparison to what I like to normally put out. :/

Adrien Agreste had been a model for long enough to know that anything was possible.

A few tricks with colored eyeshadow could correct red splotches, the right angle could make a model look as though her stomach were flat, and of course, a few hours with a good hairstylist could even make short hair long.

Problem was, he’d only seen that done in the most extreme circumstances – likely when some Hollywood diva was about to have a fit over a certain ‘look’ they needed for channeling their muse.

So, when Marinette Dupain-Cheng, arguably one of the gentlest people he knew - compared to certain divas in his class - had come in one day with long, flowing pigtails, he knew something was up. It wasn’t that the look was bad for her, but the change was, well, unexpected.

In fact, he was surprised no one else had commented on it.

Had he been oblivious to it before? Perhaps.

Had it been growing all along? Could be.

Was he going to make a fuss about it? Hell no.

Because even though she had caught him staring at it like some sort of creep, he wasn’t going to say anything. If Alya was any example, saying nothing to Marinette seemed to be working just fine for her. But, maybe, he considered, apologizing or at least explaining himself would be good. It just… it wasn’t every day that an average girl used one of his industry’s trademarks.

Yeah, like that would go over well.

_“Wow, Marinette, I didn’t know your hair grew that fast,”_ or even, _“Your new style is killer,”_ would be a bona fide, sugarcoated way of saying, _“I’m sorry for staring at you like an idiot, Marinette, I just didn’t realize that even you could be fake sometimes.”_

Adrien knew he was overthinking it, and had been dead-set on dropping the topic entirely before Marinette had waltzed into class the next day with her hair tugged into a bun on top of her head. If it weren’t a big deal, she could have kept her hair down until the others noticed, too. Point being, by keeping it up like that, the length was deceptive.

Suspicious, suspicious.

She had kept her hair up for the past three days and seemed to have no intention of letting it down anytime soon.

He was obsessing, he knew, but there were just some things he couldn’t let go. Call it his feline sixth sense, call it an overactive imagination – something wasn’t adding up.

The piercing sound emitted by the box on the stand beside him shocked him back into the present. The light glowed red, a sign that his opponent had scored a touch.

“Really, Agreste? That was a direct attack!”

Adrien blinked, then glanced down at the foil in his hand. Right. He was supposed to be fencing, not thinking about his classmate’s hair choices.

With a sigh, he adjusted his mask and sank lower in his en garde stance. The referee cast a lingering glance on him, but didn’t waste any time.

“En garde. Ready? Fence!”

The referee started the time and Adrien immediately retreated several steps, drawing the other fencer in. She advanced at a leisurely pace before rapidly changing her tempo and lunging toward him. With a sharp parry, he lunged forward and the tip of his foil bent into her lamé. 

A green light flashed and a shrill sound echoed.

“Halt!”

This time, his coach didn’t say a word. The girl he was fencing was just a beginner, really, and should have been an easy win.

The referee sent them back to their starting lines, and this time, Adrien advanced toward the girl, curious to see if her reaction time was quick enough to stop his attack. Once he’d closed enough distance, he lunged forward into her high line.

_Bluebell eyes._

The girl’s foil clashed with his.

_Long, black hair._

His weapon shot over her shoulder. Before he had time to make a counterparry, she had already scored the touch.

He gaped at the scorebox for a moment, almost not believing what he saw. It had been such a novice mistake to make. If he’d just retreated a half-step and reset himself…

He shook his head, vowing to stay focused. His personal problems could wait until he was off the strip.

Adrien scored the next two touches easily, pulling his score ahead by a point. He had just found his rhythm again when the door to the room opened, and a head poked through the crack. A head he knew all too well.

He barely caught the girl’s blade as she ran by him with her arm extended toward his shoulder, but wasn’t in time to make a counter action. A little, white light went off. He had been lucky that her touch had been off-target.

Adrien whipped his head to the side, jaw dropping. Marinette was… actually there. She was sitting in the corner of the room, studiously drawing in a notebook. Almost as though aware of his attention, she looked up, locking eyes with him.

He grit his teeth and refocused on the bout. Two beat-attacks and two green lights later, it was over. The girl bounced on her toes as she shook his hand, obviously pleased to have gotten three touches on him with only a month or two of actual practice under her belt.

Adrien unclipped the cord plugged into his weapon and set it on the ground, twisting to unhook his gear from the reel behind him. He stuck his glove in his mask and set the two along the wall with his foil.

His coach muttered something to him about always staying focused, and he nodded, only dimly aware of the situation. After nodding through the one-sided conversation, he turned on his heel and started toward Marinette.

Uncertain, he waved at the girl. She blinked, coming out of a daze. After a moment, she smiled up at him and waved back.

He brushed his damp hair back from where it stuck to his forehead. “Hey, Marinette! What’re you doing here?”

She never seemed to show much interest in him or in most of the activities he enjoyed, but with a little luck, maybe they could finally talk more, or at least, he could try convincing her that Chat Noir was harmless.

Her attention refocused on the journal in her lap. “I’m trying to design something. I’m not quite sure what, yet.” A crinkle formed between her brows. “I’m looking for my muse, I guess.” She tapped the crossed out sketches in her lap with her pencil. “Haven’t quite gotten there yet.”

“Right, well,” he shrugged, “I doubt you’ll find it in a room of sweaty fencers.”

The slightest of smiles reached her lips, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “You’d be surprised. Inspiration always seems to strike at the strangest times.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall above her. “Can I see what you’re working on, at least?”

Wordlessly, she passed him the journal.

The day-dress staring back at him wasn’t quite what he’d expected. It was simple, to say the least, but very clearly influenced by the fencing she’d witnessed. Her careful pen had inked out a white dress with a colored sash of silver around the waist. A neat bow was tucked in at the tail of the sash, and clashing silver lines stretched across the design’s sharp dip in the chest of the faceless model.

He nodded slowly at it. It was a clean design – a safe design at the least. Something about it just didn’t scream _Marinette._

He was about to comment on it when Marinette suddenly looked up at him with an over-enthusiastic grin. She leaned closer to him and he couldn’t help but lean away. 

Speaking animatedly, Marinette rested an arm on his shoulder and shot a finger gun in his direction. “Do you want to hang out next week?” 

Adrien blinked at the sudden change, and shook her arm off. He didn’t even pause to think before replying, “I can’t.” His excuses came out in the awkwardly rushed blur that he usually only saved for getting out of activities with Chloe. “I have modeling to do. My schedule’s full.”

He wasn’t quite certain what had urged him to deny her request, but it had been overwhelming. The pout that tugged at Marinette’s lips was so uncharacteristic that he almost asked her if she was feeling well.

“Aw, really?” The sadness in her voice tugged at his heart. This was _Marinette_ he was talking to. She deserved better than to be brushed off with a lame excuse that was only half true.

He forced his ‘model’ smile and reassured her, “I’m sure we can plan something later, though.”

“Great!”

Her smile looked just as forced, not quite meeting her eyes. It was almost like the spur-of-the-moment question hadn’t actually been sincere – like she didn’t know why she had bothered asking.

First the hair, then strange mood swings?

Something was definitely wrong.

But before he got a chance to check in on her, she had already scooped up her design and booked it toward the door – leaving him watching her go with a sinking feeling in his gut.

\---

“But, Plagg, what if something is wrong?” Adrien’s head lolled in the kwami’s direction. The spot where his cheek had been pressed to his pillow was red, and his hair was matted down. After finishing up the small amount of homework he’d been given and showering from fencing practice, he’d only had the energy to pull out some camembert for Plagg and to collapse on his bed.

He should have been using the spare time to sleep for once in his life, but every time he closed his eyes, the sadness welling in Marinette’s eyes wrenched his heart. He couldn’t relax, not without knowing what was wrong.

For a kid who’d been homeschooled all his life, he had a strange penchant for the feelings of his friends. Whenever any of them was down – Chloe, Nino, or evidently Marinette – it would bother him for days. Weeks, if it came to that.

Plagg swallowed a chunk of the cheese and replied, “It’s probably a girl thing. Don’t worry about it.”

“But what if it’s an akuma? What if, what if there’s some crazy akuma out there and Marinette knows something about it?”

Plagg blinked at him, chewing thoughtfully. “I don’t think so, kid. Marinette seems more like she’d do something about it if that were the case, going off what you’ve described. She’s friends with that Ladyblog girl, right? She’d probably tell her and get the word out.” 

Adrien pushed his head back into the pillow, groaning. “I can’t let this go, Plagg. I don’t like this. Why would she change her hair like that?”

“Symbolism?”

“Isn’t that supposed to be cutting hair?”

Plagg shrugged, as if to say ‘that’s about as much as you’re getting from me.’

“I think I should check on her.” Adrien pushed himself off the comforter and ran a hand through his hair.

“Kid, I don’t think that’s necess-”

“You didn’t see the way she looked!” He blurted out. “She was just so, so sad!”

Plagg squinted at Adrien and let out a noncommittal grumble. “Well, don’t blame me if she wants nothing to do with you. You heard her earlier – she doesn’t like Chat Noir.”

Adrien’s eyes softened. “I can’t imagine what made her say that. Come on, let’s get to the root of this.” He rose to his feet, facing the kwami. “Plagg? Claws-”

“Adrien, wait!” The kwami dropped his cheese on the boy’s bureau and floated up in front of his face.

There was a worried frown on Plagg’s face, and a strange dimness in his green eyes.

“Plagg? What’s wrong?” He cupped his hands in front of him and scooped up the kwami.

Plagg curled into his palms, unsettled. “I didn’t know how to tell you this – but I can’t sense Tikki.”

“Tikki?”

“Ladybug’s kwami.”

“Oh.” Adrien sat back down on the edge of his bed, staring at the little, black cat. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Well, I thought it was bad camembert at first, but then I realized that something so gooey and delicious couldn’t possibly be bad. It means that Ladybug, or at least Tikki, is gone.”

Alarm shot through Adrien, his voice raising. “Gone?” He cast a glance over his shoulder, but there was no sign that anyone else in the house had heard him. “What do you mean, gone?”

“The black cat and the ladybug miraculous are two sides of the same coin. If something is wrong with either of us, the other knows. We can always sense each other’s location.”

“How do you know she’s missing?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” the little cat confessed. “I’ve never felt this before. She’s just… gone. It’s like she’s been ripped away from the bonds that tied us, and now it’s just… empty. But Adrien,” Plagg’s eyes were hard, slanted with dislike. “Don’t trust what you see. Even if you meet Ladybug out there, be wary. Something isn’t right.”

Adrien nodded grimly. “We have a patrol later tonight. I’ll see what’s up then. But, meeting Marinette should be fine before then. I’ll be quick about it.”

Plagg looked as though he wanted to say something more, but merely floated back to his unfinished cheese and gulped it down. “Say the words, kid.”

“Plagg, claws out!”

The kwami vanished into his ring and Chat Noir leapt from the Agreste mansion, propelling himself toward the Dupain-Cheng residence.

As far as he could tell, Marinette spent a fair amount of time on her balcony. He tried not to make it a habit, but on particularly bad days, her rooftop was always a safe place to decompress. Sometimes she found him sitting in her garden, eyes unfocused and dimly watching the sun set. Other times he'd see her working on homework or just admiring the city with a tangible exhilaration. He didn't bother her when the city sent her into a trance. He didn't want to interrupt any of the inspiration seeping through whatever door had finally cracked open to give her an idea. 

More than once, they'd sat in silence, her arm around his shoulders consolingly, a shared blanket across their laps.

There were the days, of course, when he found her upset over something - something typically resulting from her unexcused absences and tardiness at school. He'd never asked her about them, though. It wasn't his business - in the suit or out. 

Sometimes Marinette would talk his ear off about designs, and other times about the bakery.

As infrequently as they met, the memories between them were always fond, or so he had thought.

Chat Noir landed on a roof and peered past some chimney stacks to where Marinette stood on her balcony. Her fists were tightly clenched around the rail, and a scowl was on her face. She snapped a response to someone he couldn't see.

After a moment of silence, he determined that she must have just been talking to herself. Chat stood so she could see him, his tail half-curled behind him.

She straightened when she spotted him, veiling the irritation that had just been present. She rolled her eyes at his sly grin.

He extended his staff and swung across the gap between them. He landed on the edge of the building and bent in a low bow.

"Princess!" He cried, raising a hand to his heart. "How good it is to see you again!"

She blinked at him as he swung his legs over the banister and propped his chin on his hands. His tail dangled down toward the bakery.

"Hi," she replied, her fingers curled in a half wave.

"I couldn't help but notice you were looking down. Wanna talk?"

She crossed her arms and took a step back. The guarded expression never left her face. "I'm fine."

He propped an arm on the rail and sat back, practically lounging on the banister. "What, cat got your tongue?"

Chat glanced over at her and found her staring at him. She said nothing.

He rolled off the edge, standing before her. "Are you okay?"

Marinette was thoroughly rattled. She fidgeted and glanced over her shoulder- almost as though expecting someone to attack her.

His green eyes narrowed. He put a hand on his baton and stepped closer to her.

He kept his sights trained behind her and held out a hand. "Princess, if there's an akuma, if something is after you, let me help you."

The words finally seemed to shock Marinette out of her stupor. She ripped her hand out of his clutches. "I said I'm fine. There's nothing there."

He took a step back, raising one hand over his head. The other lingered on his baton. "Alright, alright."

They stood, silent. Marinette fidgeted on her feet, not meeting his eyes.

He had just made up his mind to leave when her voice stopped him.

"Do you like being a hero?"

Some of the tension left his shoulders. "More than anything."

Doubt flared in the twist of her features. Something about it rubbed him the wrong way.

"It-it's just... So much better," he finished lamely. "Than all of," he gestured around, "this." He turned from her, watching the orange glow of the setting sun poking through the rooftops. "It's free."

"Free?" Marinette hadn't moved.

"Yeah." His response was soft enough that he wasn't sure if she'd heard. He wasn't even sure if he cared, what with the thoughts running rampant through his mind.

He was just distracted enough that her words cut sharply into his thoughts, startling him.

"Are you and Ladybug as close as people assume you are?"

He blinked down at her, not understanding. "What's going on, princess?"

"Have you ever... Have you ever lied to someone close to you?"

Sympathy flooded him. He knew how much the girl valued honesty. If it was a lie that was bothering her, he could understand why she had been acting so distant.

"Well, sure. I mean, my family doesn't exactly know about the whole superhero thing."

He was surprised when she shook her head. "I don't mean family."

"Then what do you mean?" He finally hooked his baton back in and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall by her trap door.

"Ladybug."

He quirked a brow. "I think she'd murder me if I lied to her. You remember the Volpina incident, don't you?"

Marinette shrugged. "But, just, if you were hiding something from her... would you tell her eventually?"

Something about the question rubbed him the wrong way.

"We're partners. I would tell her anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Marinette shut her eyes and collapsed into the chair she always kept in the garden. "Even your identity?"

Chat paused, then nodded. "Anything."

Marinette seemed to think on that for a minute, mulling it over in her head. 

Chat quickly checked the time on his baton and grimaced. "I have to go. Patrol." He climbed on the rail, and with a sharp salute, left Marinette to think.

He couldn't imagine what must have happened to her to ask questions like that, but if it helped... he’d do almost anything.

He had just rolled onto the Arc de Triomphe when Ladybug's signature yo-yo wrapped around a post and dragged her into sight. She alighted next to him, and he couldn't help but smile. After the strange few days he'd been having, she was a welcome distraction.

He was about to greet her when she turned and he caught a glimpse of her pigtails. Immediately, he froze, a poignant note of horror sinking into him.

Plagg was right.

This was not the Ladybug he knew.

Chat drew his baton.

She paused, appraising him with her cool, blue eyes - eyes that most decidedly were not his Lady's. Her hand was on her hip - on her weapon, and her long hair was tumbling in the breeze.

"Something wrong, Chat Noir?"

The cold in her voice was like a verbal slap. 

This wasn't her. This wasn't the Ladybug he'd fallen in love with.

Feigning confidence, he shrugged. 

"Oh, nothing. Say, Ladybug," he forced a lightness in his tone. "Have you ever gone ice skating?"

The question threw her off guard. "O-of course," she stammered, lost.

"Hm." He took a few steps closer to her. She backed up a step, as though questioning his motions. 

He didn't want to accuse the akuma outright. Without concrete proof, it could try to trick him again, to change whatever flaw he mentioned with the fake Ladybug's appearance. 

If only the real Ladybug would show up. She was better at plans than he was.

 _But what if..._ a nagging voice sounded in his head, a voice that if he were being honest, sounded an awful lot like Ladybug. _What if Hawkmoth already won? What if Ladybug was already... dead?_

His lips parted in a snarl before he could help himself. "When was the last time you went?"

"Why does it matter?" She replied flippantly. 

"Just," he took in a ragged breath. The akuma was stalling, and he wasn't sure he could beat it. Not without his Lady. "Tell me."

She sniffed. "It was when I was a civilian. Last week. I compete. So what?"

Chat withdrew his baton and shot it toward her, landing just short. 

"Who are you?"

She toyed with the yo-yo in her hands, flinging it up and down. "Who do you think I am? I'm Ladybug."

"Where is she?"

The fake Ladybug stared at him, surprise clear on her features. "Are we going to patrol or not?"

In response, Chat whipped his baton at her. She ducked to avoid the blow, and sent her weapon flying across the rooftop. It wrapped around his leg and began to pull him toward her.

Defiant, Chat split his baton in two and sent one piece whizzing past her ear. The second collided with her gut. 

The yo-yo string released as she stumbled back. He quickly got to his feet. He rushed her, exchanging blows that she deflected with her yo-yo. They neared the edge of the roof, and she launched herself off of it, expertly twisting to secure herself to an outcropping on the opposing rooftop. She neatly flipped onto the wider surface and retracted her yo-yo. 

"I'm going to ask you one more time." Chat stood on the edge of the building, green eyes blazing against his dark silhouette. "Who are you?"

She faced him from across the yawning gap. She lifted an arm to strike again. "I am Coccinelle. Your Ladybug is gone." She smirked. "And your curse will never be lifted."

Before he had a chance to reflect on what she meant by curse, she pivoted and whipped away in the opposite direction. With an angry lash of his tail, he followed her, ducking and diving just behind her.

She almost looked surprised when she glanced back and saw how closely he was tailing her. Within minutes, he had caught up. He stretched his arms wide and caught her around the middle, dragging them both down onto the gravelly rooftop.

Rocks stabbed into their suits, but they ignored the pain and scrapes. The two wrestled, weapons forgotten. She managed a decent right hook across his cheek, but he returned the jab with a kick to her stomach.

She went flying off of him and landed in a heap on the ground, panting for breath. He struggled toward her, ignoring the pain in his inflamed cheek. Coccinelle fought back as he pinned her down, kicking wildly.

No mercy shone in his eyes as he thrust two punches at her face. Blood spilled from her nose, dripping down the side of her face and onto the ground beneath them.

Those eyes... They were so similar. He doubted that anyone else would have noticed the difference, even if they were this close.

His anger suddenly left his limbs, and while he had her down, he stopped exchanging blows. As though aware of his sudden change, Coccinelle fell limp beneath him, gasping for air.

“Where’s your akuma?” He glanced down at her yo-yo and reached a clawed hand toward it.

The bloodstained girl let out a dry laugh. “I’m no akuma, precious Chatton.” She spat up at him and he swiped at the wetness on his cheek. 

"Who are you?" He repeated, this time his voice soft and his cat ears drooping.

She blinked at him, then slowly raised a hand to wipe some of the blood away from her face. Her red-soaked glove fell back onto the gravel. "My name is Coccinelle.” There was a promise in her eyes, a certainty that sent a dagger through him. “Your Ladybug is gone, and she isn’t coming back. Not to you."

He rolled off of her, sitting as she slowly picked herself up. She swiped at her face again, smearing the tears and mucus that had accumulated.

“What did you do to her?”

Coccinelle smirked at him, her lip split and still bleeding. “Oh, precious Chatton. It’s what we did for each other. She’ll thank me once all this is over. Once she knows the truth about you.”

His mind went blank. Could this newcomer know who he was? Beneath the mask?

“What truth?”

She didn’t respond, hobbling over to the edge of the rooftop. 

She turned then, with the blackness of night consuming her silhouette against the Parisian skyline. “A lie you told, and a truth I discovered. I am Ladybug. I am Coccinelle. But I will never be _yours_.”

Yours. She spat it out like an insult. 

Coccinelle vaulted off the rooftops, but this time, when she left, he let her go – hands limp at his sides and a heavy weight settling in his gut.

 

\---

 

Félix was perturbed by the sudden shift in Bridgette's behavior. 

After weeks, maybe even months of irritating him at every turn, showering him with unwanted greetings and pleasantries - she had suddenly stopped.

He had tried countless times to reject and spurn her to no avail - the negative attention only increasing her efforts. But this time, when he had done nothing, she’d suddenly gone offline.

She wasn't rude about it, nor offensive. Instead, every morning, she would walk in, murmur a quick greeting, and find her seat. That was it. No bravado, no untoward clinginess. Bridgette Dupain-Cheng was finally just _normal_.

And for reasons he didn't care to dwell on, something about that stung.

He couldn't possibly fathom what it was that could have turned her away from him so abruptly. He'd always been coarse around the edges, and maybe a bit aloof, but he had never truly wished any unkindness toward her. Not after she'd tried so hard to be kind to him.

Most of the students ignored him. Others, he suspected, feared him. There was an unsettling aura that came with the Black Cat Miraculous - one that only Bridgette had seemed immune to. Evidently, his rotten luck had finally caught up with him. He was finally, truly alone.

There was, however, one gloomy thought rattling around in his brain.

What if she knows?

If something had been telling when he had warned Bridgette to run from Falcon, she could easily have made the connection. Coming from the library, honey-colored hair - it wasn't that much of a stretch. Sure, she had defended Cat Noir earlier in the day, but what if things were different now that she knew who he was? Regardless of her thoughts of him as a hero, it had certainly affected her crush on him. 

Félix shook his head hard and pushed his chair back from his desk. He had to stop thinking about it. All it did was make things worse.

He blinked at the fading light coming from his windows and, standing, put his back to the bright laptop screen. The soft light poured onto the black and white furniture of the room, the only real color coming from the bindings of the books scattered on his shelves. Somewhere far above the bookcases, Dragg was dozing on shredded worksheets he had destroyed after Félix no longer needed them.

Félix stretched his arms above his head, pulling this way and that to relieve a cramp in his shoulder. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and scowled at the bags under his eyes. He lifted a comb to flick it through his hair. 

_"You are my enemy."_

The brush dropped to the ground.

_"And I am yours."_

Félix stumbled back a few steps, his heels connecting with his mattress. He dropped onto the bedspread, pressing his palms to his eyes.

His voice, plaintive, pleading, _"It doesn't have to be this way."_

He dug his nails into his forehead, willing the memories away.

_"You gave me no other choice."_

The conversation looped as it had so many times before. Eventually, the incessant tide eased off and pulled away, leaving his nerves raw and his mind numb. He sat on his bed for a few more minutes, shaking.

It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault. But at the same time, it was.

There was a knocking at the door. 

He rubbed at the crescent moons left on his skin and called, "enter!"

The door cracked open and the voice of his father's latest secretary floated through. They never did seem to last long in this house.

"Félix, your father would like to speak with you."

"Understood," he replied - because in reality, that was all he could say about the matter.

He took in a stabilizing breath and shook his nerves away. If his father wanted to see him, it would be best to lock down any pesky emotions that would later make him regret their meeting. With a warning glare at Dragg, Félix shut his bedroom door behind him and followed in the secretary's wake. He pressed open the door to his father's study and stopped before his father's desk. It was then that he finally dared to lift his eyes to the collected calm his father projected.

Gervais Agreste finished scanning the document before him before deigning to pay attention to his son. His features settled into cool indifference, but he put his pen down long enough to acknowledge him.

"Félix, thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

No matter the situation, it was always formal, always business with his father.

"Of course, Father."

But it was a game he'd learned to play a long time ago.

"I wanted to discuss your current modeling schedule."

Félix patiently waited for his father to continue. 

"With the upcoming spring collection, I need you to switch from modeling three days a week to five. Every day, after school, Nathaniel will escort you. As usual, there are to be no delays. We all need to do our part to stay on schedule."

Every day. Félix stared blindly at his father, not comprehending. His father raised a brow at him and straightened in his seat.

“That isn’t going to be a problem, is it?”

Regaining his composure, Félix molded indifference over his features – even as his treacherous heart screamed to not be locked away. “No, father. Of course not.”

“Good. Then you are dismissed.”

Félix’s breath was caught in his throat, and as he pivoted, he blinked away the growing pressure behind his eyes.

“Oh, and Félix?”

He stopped, but didn’t look back – not trusting himself to keep his feelings at bay.

“Yes, father?”

He could almost feel Gervais’s eyes boring into his back, where countless scars from his parading about as Cat Noir had no doubt vanished after Coccinelle’s mysterious new cure.

The rustling of papers told Félix that his father had already lost interest and gone back to his work. “Stay away from those heroes. If an akuma were to hurt you, you wouldn’t be able to do your job, and this season is important.”

Félix bit his lip at that point, holding back the aching pain from his ripping heartstrings. If only he knew how close to the truth he was. “Of course, father,” he lied through his teeth, “that would be foolish.”

When his father only grunted an acknowledgement of his words, Félix calmly stalked out of the room and scurried up the stairs as fast as he could without drawing undue attention to himself. Once he had locked himself in his room again, he slid to the ground before his expansive windows and tightly clutched the fabric of his button-down shirt. He hadn’t even bothered to turn a light on. The only thing that let him see the faintest outline of the objects in his room was the moonlight pouring in.

He ripped his vest off and threw it in a crumpled heap on the ground. His hands wrapped around the loose fabric of his shirt, fingers curled around his too-tight collar. Suddenly, his black tie was too snug around his throat. He desperately pried it off and tossed it next to the vest. Desperation bubbled up and with a sob he was sure only Dragg could hear, he buried his face in his knees.

Dragg, to his credit, vanished from sight.

Life was a game that Félix was simply tired of playing. He was tired of the disappointment and the tricks, of the insurmountable expectations and the increasing distance between him and any living person. Dragg had had a part in his misfortune – but he couldn’t blame it all on the kwami.

No. Félix’s cards had been down for a far longer time.

And his suffering always came with the rain.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and as he sat there, crying silently, the moon became covered by thick, dark clouds.

He had been fighting for freedom – for a sense of love – for so long that he was no longer sure he knew what the terms meant.

It was the rain that had claimed his mother on the damp streets of Paris so many years before – the rain that had caused such a devastating accident that when the ambulances had come, not even the slightest hint of life could be found in her crushed bones.

He had days when he couldn’t remember the vivid color of her eyes or the way her arms were always a comfort when he was down. Her casket had been closed the last time they’d been near each other – and he hadn’t visited her grave ever since. His father had never permitted it, and he hadn’t dared to ask since.

It was that night that he learned promises were nothing more than empty expanses shouted into a world that had no care for vows or the unbreakable premises behind them.

 _“I’ll see you later, my darling,”_ she had promised, kissing his brow before heading out in the rain with her red umbrella in one hand and her car keys in the other.

When the memories crushed against him like this, his ghost stood in the door for longer than any little boy should have, watching his mother disappear before fading into the haze of the fog rising from the ground.

There was another memory, however, one far more recent that had left him broken in the rain.

_“It doesn’t have to be this way.”_

_The rain had soaked them through to the bone, but the wetness in both their eyes was far more than a breach of the weather. Coccinelle stood before him with hurt, such awful hurt, in her stance that was breaking his heart._

_An overwhelming sense of betrayal flashed in the murky depths of her blue eyes._

_“Coccinelle…” he drifted, not believing what he was seeing._

_She took a step away from him, and then another. The rain was pelting down on them, cutting through their suits. Lightning flashed overhead._

_“You gave me no other choice,” she choked out, raising a hand over her mouth as she gasped for air._

_Funny._

_She thought she was drowning from the weight of it all._

_But he’d been a dead man floating for far longer._

A chill ran down his spine as he jolted back to the present, his tears sticky against his cheeks. He had to stop that incessant crying – his eyes would be puffy the next day and he couldn’t be tired for his new photoshoot.

The photoshoot! His eyes flew open and he uncurled his tight fists. Bridgette was supposed to meet him in the library after school for the rest of the week. What would she think if he just ditched her like that?

He stumbled to his feet and dragged himself over to his computer. He fell heavily into his seat and opened up the presentation they had shared with one another. A little, pink icon in the corner showed that she was currently putting information on a slide.

Félix opened up a chat box and typed a brief, curt message.

_Bridgette, I regret to inform you that I will be unable to meet with you in the library tomorrow. Something came up._

He hesitated over the wording for a moment, wondering if it were too formal. But then again, with how she’d been acting lately, maybe it was appropriate. He hit send and blinked to dispel any of the final tears from his eyes. He swiped at his face a few times before a notification dinged.

_No problem! c: We can finish some other time!_

His feelings were already stretched thin and numbing, but through the murkiness of his mind, he began to regret the formality of his message. Without a response, he shut the browser and turned his computer off – once more sitting in the silence and darkness of his room.

With shaking fingers, he ran a hand across his cheek to verify once again that the akuma hadn’t left any lasting damage. Coccinelle’s new power had shocked him to his core, but as brutally as it had stung, he wasn’t really surprised that she refused to tell him what it was all about.

Reporters had been commenting for the past few days about Coccinelle’s new talent, and how all previous damage had been fixed – that was, except for the lives that had been lost along the way.

Whether Papillion was distrustful of the change or just preoccupied for once in his life, Félix had no clue. All he knew was that no new akumas had popped up since, and while it was disturbing, he was finally able to get decent sleep at night.

Félix gathered his strength and switched over to his bed, not bothering to get out of his shirt and pants, though he took off his belt and shoes. He pressed the side of his cheek into a pillow and threw a blanket over his head – but not before he spotted Dragg floating down beside him.

“Done crying it out, kitten?” The shadowy figure mocked.

Félix, too tired to respond, merely shut his eyes.

“Just remember, Félix. Nothing changes until you make it change.” The kwami’s sharp teeth glinted with a devilish grin. “You and I, we’re one and the same.”

Félix mumbled a response, his mouth pressed against the pillow. “Shut up already, Dragg.”

“Sorry, kitten. You know the rules. You stayed behind to talk to the _love of your life_ so- oomph!”

Félix’s hand shot out and snatched the pesky kwami. He snarled at it, anger suddenly replacing his previous sadness. “I got it. Leave me alone.”

Due to the fact that Félix had stayed in the suit longer than necessary for something that wasn’t a patrol or fighting off the akuma, he was destined to have something bad happen to him – of what severity he was unsure.

The kwami struggled in his grasp. “Fine, fine. Just don’t yell at me when your alarm doesn’t go off tomorrow morning.”

A weight left his shoulders and he released the kwami, who promptly flew away. “That’s nothing. That’s fine.”

He smiled into the pillow, as though in response to a joke that only he knew the punchline to. 

“What?” The kwami grumbled, staring at the thin smile on his lips. “What could you possibly be happy about?”

Half-asleep and fading fast, he mumbled in a dream-like trance, “Your curse might be bad, but it’s nothing compared to the rain.”

Thunder rumbled and the pounding of water on the rooftop grew until his thoughts drifted away and he finally fell to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amongst other things, I have hardcore headcanons for Adrien as a fencer. In the show, he wears the outfit of an epéeist, but the weapon he holds has the traditional grip of a saberist and the attack his makes/the target he hits is where a foilist would hit, so I typically like to think he's drilling with a funky practice foil and just took his lamé off for it. (Of course, there are a few other problems with the scene - like not getting carded for stabbing his opponent while he's down on the ground like that, haha).
> 
> Besides that, haha, I'm not really satisfied with my execution of this chapter - or at least for Adrien's POV. (I was hit with Félix feels and I am not okay) I only had a vague feeling for it when I went into it, and as a result, it took me more than a month to complete. Sorry about that - but I can promise you that I don't want to give this fic up. Life just got kinda crazy. I want to see this through, but sometimes chapters might take me a while. Plotwise, I'm trying to keep this moving to keep it interesting, but I don't want it to go too quickly, if you get what I'm saying #hasnoideawhatshe'sdoingwithherpacing. But good news! I've outlined the next few chapters more thoroughly and next chapter will be a bit of a doozy >:D Stick around!
> 
> <3 Tournt  
> tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

Marinette spun in a lazy circle on Bridgette’s swivel chair, letting out a heavy breath. Her blue eyes stared up at the cracked ceiling, not seeing what was before her. So wrapped up in her thoughts about the project she had to finish with Félix (a project that she thought she’d be able to have long since left in Bridgette’s capable hands), she hadn’t even noticed Tikki’s sudden exclamation.

“Marinette!”

The girl groaned in response, rubbing at the bags under her eyes. She tugged the hem of Bridgette’s shirt down so it would stop riding up her waist.

“Yeah, Tikki?”

“You have a message!”

Marinette frowned. That meant Bridgette had a message, which meant that Allegra was probably screaming at her about a new song she’d learned to play on her flute. The last time that had happened, Marinette had been assaulted by a piss-poor rendition of All Star by Smash Mouth, and the damned song had been stuck in her head for days. She groaned again at the memory. “Who is it this time?”

The kwami, having seemingly endless energy, bounced in delight. “Félix!”

Marinette’s eyes had just slid shut, but they popped back open as soon as the word clicked in her head. “Félix?” She gaped at Tikki, then snatched the laptop from the desk. “He’s actually trying to talk to Bridgette?”

That was a first. She’d looked away from the project for two seconds and he’d finally decided to contribute.

She clicked on the chat box and his curt, if not somewhat cryptic, message popped up.

_Bridgette, I regret to inform you that I will be unable to meet with you in the library tomorrow. Something came up._

She grabbed a nearby cushion and let out an angry shriek into it. Research or no, she’d been formatting the damn thing for hours, with no help from him.

Her vision went red.

Wait.

Like actually red.

Marinette blinked and realized Tikki was blocking her view of the laptop. She leaned her head away from the kwami, who chirped,“What would you say if it were Adrien?”

Marinette released the cushion she held in a death grip. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t call him a pretentious waste of my time.”

Tikki flew down to her keyboard. “Remember, you’re playing a part! Maybe Bridgette sees something in him that you haven’t gotten a chance to find yet. You haven’t finished going through her diary yet, maybe there’s something there.”

“Maybe,” Marinette agreed begrudgingly, a frown tugging at her lips. But there was another mystery Marinette wanted to solve from the diary – a mystery surrounding a different blond-haired boy with an attitude.

Cringing, Marinette typed out a perky response and sent it, not caring to see if Félix replied. She closed the laptop and stood from the chair. She unlocked Bridgette’s box and pulled out her worn journal, turning to the spot she’d left off.

\---

Four months earlier:

The hazy evening had caught the two superheroes by surprise – pitching the sky into a soft purple and causing the streetlights to burn with a gentle glow that almost made them feel as though they’d wandered into a dream. Coccinelle and Cat Noir sat on the edge of a gabled rooftop, their feet swinging in the chasm below.

While their patrol had finished minutes before, there was something about the dim silence of the night that prompted a sense of togetherness between them – even if the repercussions would lead to terrible luck later in the evening.

But for now, Coccinelle gazed happily at her partner, smiling at the way he seemed to relax when the sleepy city shifted beneath them with the wanderings of late-night alley cats and adventurous travelers set on exploring the sights around them. His clawed hand, normally rigid and ready to fight, had loosened considerably and the tension in his posture had deflated – leaving him contentedly slumped over.

The rest was good for him. He deserved a break every once in a while, even knowing what it would cost them later.

The tail of his suit thwapped happily against the side of the building and Coccinelle let out a little giggle.

He turned to her, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. “What?”

“Your tail.”

He glanced down at it, and remarkably, the smile grew on his face.

“I thought only dogs wagged their tails when they were happy,” she teased, jostling him with a gentle nudge.

Cat raised his fingers in front of his eyes and feigned a look of shock. “All this time and I never noticed! Coccinelle! My ring I- I’m actually Dog Noir!”

She burst out into a fit of raucous laughter – the serious expression firm on his face.

“This is terrible! We need to tell the press right away!” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her back and forth. “I’m a fraud!”

Her snickers faded and they sat like that for a moment, with an arm around each other on the precipice of the building – the precipice of their relationship turning a new leaf.

They’d always gotten along and been able to balance their abilities with each other magnificently, but this? There was a hint of something more on the breeze – a budding friendship expanding past their dutiful teamwork and Cat’s playful flirting. It felt laced with danger, almost, as though getting too close would burn them in the end in the fight against Papillon.

Papillon.

The smile fell from Coccinelle’s lips. Cat Noir caught the action and frowned, moving to release the arm he had around her. She shook her head and grabbed his hand. Suddenly the thoughts of that distant tomorrow were too overwhelming for her to bear alone.

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” She blurted out, fear overloading whatever sense she had.

He froze, staring at her with wide eyes. “Wait, what?”

“I mean,” heat rose to her cheeks. “I mean that… when it’s time to fight Papillon, when it’s time to save Paris once and for all – you’ll stay with me, right? We’ll take the fight to him together?”

They stared at each other for a moment that stretched into an eternity. Coccinelle was about to drop the topic entirely when he replied, if a little hoarse,

“Nothing would keep me away.”

She looked at him curiously, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I would be honored to fight by your side.”

A breath of relief escaped her and she leaned heavier into his side, her cheek pressing against the fabric of his suit. “Do you promise?”

His hand reached up to her head and he stroked her hair soothingly. His voice cracked, “I promise.”

She shifted, twisting her head to look up at him and his hand paused on her hair. He was looking down at her with something she hadn’t seen him bear before – a burden that made her uneasy. He inclined his head in her direction ever so slightly. Their breaths became more rapid between them and a coil of warmth flickered in her gut. It looked, for all the world, like he was about to kiss her.

His other arm came around her, slowly, as though not to startle her. Her mouth went dry as he came closer – she could see a hint of blue around his pupils.

But instead of his lips meeting hers, he buried his head into her shoulder, gently hugging her to him.

Her heart nearly broke with it. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or upset that he had set her up to expect more, but as he spoke, all thoughts of that vanished.

“Are you sure?” He mumbled in her ear. “Are you sure you want… me?”

Her heart stopped beating in her chest. In response, she threw her arms around him tight, nearly knocking them both off the side of the building. Her throat had suddenly constricted, and a tightness in her chest threatened to spill tears down her cheeks.

“You stupid cat.”

He said nothing, as though not daring to voice any more of what was on his mind.

Coccinelle’s eyes slid shut. “You’re my partner, Cat Noir. There’s no one else I’d rather trust to fight with me. I need you.” She didn’t let go of him, even when she suspected she was making it hard for him to breathe. “I _need_ you.”

“Coccinelle,” he whispered her name, gently cupping her cheeks between his palms. “You shouldn’t trust me. I’m a black cat – I’m bad luck. You’d be better off without me.”

“Mon minou,” she started, raising her hands to wrap around his. “I would be lost without you. I can’t do this by myself.”

She hadn’t sensed the warning in his voice, nor understood the depths of what he was trying to say.

 _Don’t get attached to me,_ his shaking hands begged.

 _I’m going to break your heart,_ his teary eyes promised.

 _I am not worthy,_ his splitting heart pleaded.

_I am not honest._

But all that Coccinelle saw that night in her partner, her hero, her friend – was a boy she would do anything for, and a boy she would trust with her very soul.

They had separated after that, drawing back to their original position of having one arm wrapped around each other. They stayed like that for the better half of the night – a teenage boy and a teenage girl staring down at the City of Lights, and a dark, dark secret weighing heavily between them.

\---

_“And it’s strange, even though we spent so much time together, I don’t think anything bad happened when I got home. Yeah, I tripped coming up the stairs later – but that was it. If all I have to suffer through to spend more time with Cat is tripping a little, I’ll do it more often!”_

Marinette finished the passage, a hint of second-hand embarrassment tingeing her cheeks pink. Bridgette hadn’t left out many details of the near-kiss, and Marinette couldn’t help but think about another black-clad superhero as she flipped through the pages. With a glance at the time, Marinette hauled herself up onto the bed and skimmed through a few more mundane passages.

Though Bridgette had certainly been talking more about Félix in some of her latest entries, Marinette didn’t truly feel like she was in love with him. In fact, it didn’t feel that way at all – just more like she wanted to be friends with him.

 _“He seems kind of shy and lonely,”_ she’d remarked. _“He doesn’t seem to want to talk to a lot of people either. Maybe I should ask Papa for some cookies or macaroons to give to him – I’m sure they’d make his day!”_

There had been passages earlier on that hinted at a crush, scrawling repetitions of Bridgette Agreste written in the dog eared corners, but if she were being honest with herself, Bridgette seemed to have a far deeper crush on… Cat Noir.

Marinette had just flipped through another typical entry about an akuma and musings about Bridgette’s daily life and was just about to give up for the night when she found a passage that was curiously marked in slashing, black pen.

\---

Coccinelle gave a cursory glance to the darkening sky before focusing on the chaos below her once more. While there was an akuma zapping people with a strange energy, it wasn’t a high-risk akuma. Meaning - she didn’t have to jump in blindly to keep civilians from getting killed.

Cat Noir had gone silent beside her, but his claws were digging deep grooves into the mansard roof they were laying on. The two were hiding in the shadowy cleft created by the overhang of a window centered almost directly over the akuma.

The akuma had named himself the Revealer – a blue and orange paisley monstrosity with a skintight suit similar to her’s and Cat’s. Only – the look wasn’t working anywhere near as well for him.

There were often akumas that Coccinelle couldn’t comprehend – events that had poisoned the victim’s minds in ways she couldn’t possibly understand. But the Revealer was just a man, and a man who’d been badly hurt.

She watched as he raised an ornate mirror toward a group of fleeing civilians and shot out a purple beam from it. It struck a young boy, and though he yelled something, she couldn’t catch what he’d said. Whatever it was – he looked thoroughly ashamed to have blurted it out.

_I am the Revealer! And I shall know your deepest secrets!_

Coccinelle suppressed a shiver. While the more dangerous akumas were always a nuisance, she genuinely hated the akumas that messed with people’s minds. Time could heal the physical wounds caused by an akuma. It couldn’t always heal the mental ones.

She knew she couldn’t blame the man behind the paisley – not when he’d become overcome by grief after hearing his girlfriend had been cheating on him with another man, just as he was about to propose.

Coccinelle took in a deep breath, held it for a second, then let it go.

She didn’t know pain like that. She prayed she never would.

She turned to Cat Noir, who was watching her carefully.

“Any thoughts?”

“Stay away from the mirror,” he replied. “We have more important secrets to keep than the average Parisian.”

She nodded. If their identities were jeopardized... They could be dead in hours. Their families, their friends…

“You go for the akuma, I’ll draw his fire.” Coccinelle shifted off her stomach and rose to her full height. Without waiting for Cat to reply, she leapt off the shingles and swung across the street. She glanced back at her partner once, but he was already slinking off towards the akuma, keeping to the shadows.

She swung past the akuma this time, edging closer than was advisable. The Revealer finally noticed her and immediately aimed the mirror in her direction. It charged with a purple glow, then fired, streaking by her and barely missing as she twisted to dodge it.

She released the roof she’d attached to in favor of looping around a lamp post. The switch built up more momentum, and she whipped faster around the akuma. His attacks couldn’t keep up, not with how long the mirror took to charge.

She wasn’t sure what happened them – whether Cat Noir had stepped down too loudly, or if her own attention had subconsciously slipped to her partner, but whatever the subliminal message, the Revealer twisted and fired his next shot at a defenseless Cat Noir. The ray hit him smack in the chest and he flew back several feet before crashing into a parked car.

“Cat!” She cried, but didn’t dare stop near her partner. If she stopped moving, the Revealer would certainly hit her too.

She wanted to cover her ears. She wanted to block out the world – to block out the ghostly, purple aura settling into Cat’s eyes to spill his deepest secret.

But there was nothing she could do as he raised his voice against the approaching storm. “My Miraculous is cursed, and only Coccinelle can save me.”

He blinked emptily at the world as the Revealer approached. Dazed, he didn’t move as the akuma stooped beside him to take his ring. Coccinelle clung desperately to a lamppost and shot out her yo-yo to knock the akuma’s hand away.

Too slow.

The akuma’s fingers closed around Cat Noir’s ring.

Her yo-yo sailed harmlessly over the akuma’s head.

His Miraculous…

It was all over.

Coccinelle shut her eyes, not daring to see the person beneath the mask.

Without him, what hope did Paris have?

She waited for the telltale light of a detransformation. 

The rain began to slosh down harder on the pavement.

She waited, and when she finally couldn’t stand it anymore, when she couldn’t figure out why light hadn’t flooded the street – she opened her eyes and gasped.

The akuma was still standing over Cat, but the purple in his gaze had faded away – the vibrant green returned. The akuma was snarling, ripping at Cat’s ring, but it simply wouldn’t budge.

Cat’s other hand balled into a fist. He decked the akuma across the face, spitting, “Nobody likes a thief, you filthy akuma!”

Coccinelle didn’t even pause to think. Cat ripped the mirror from his hands and smashed it against the ground – eyes blazing and a low growl in his throat. Her yo-yo shot forward and captured the akuma. Within moments, it was purified. The butterfly flew away and the paisley suit faded from the victim until an ordinary citizen sat hunched over before them.

Cat let out a relieved groan and fell back against the pavement, not caring that rivulets of water were running through his hair from the puddle beneath him. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, which eventually also flopped down on the ground.

There was nothing after that. Just the pouring rain pounding down and the shrill scream of emergency vehicles in the background.

“Cat,” she mumbled, hardly daring to look at him. “What did you mean?”

He let out a dry laugh, but it was clear from the way his claws dug into the tar that there was nothing funny about it.

“Forget it, Coccinelle.” There was a warning in his tone.

Her Miraculous beeped once, a gentle reminder that she only had five minutes left.

She blinked through the rain, swiping across her face to keep water from running into her eyes. “Forget it?” The curiosity only bubbled higher. “If you need me to help you I can-”

“Why would I want your help?” He sat up then, glowering at her. “Leave me the Hell alone, Coccinelle.”

She set her mouth, lip beginning to curl. “If you’d just let me do whatever I have to do, you wouldn’t have to-”

“Suffer?” He finished, looking down at his silver-tipped boots. A dreamlike trance passed over him. “I suffer more than can be helped, Coccinelle. I have no one. I have nothing.” The faintest of smiles rose as he turned to her.

“You have me,” she insisted, something burning in her gut. Her fist closed tight.

He rolled his eyes at her. “Don’t you get it, Coccinelle?”

“Get what?” She shouted back, vaguely aware of the attention they were gathering.

He glanced at something just behind her. “Rooftops, now. The police.”

He didn’t have to say anything more. While the city didn’t mind the heroes and generally appreciated what they did – there were many individuals that would rather they hand over their Miraculous at a moment’s notice.

The two skidded to a halt on the roofs, barely holding themselves up as rainwater pooled around their feet and dragged at their suits.

She crossed her arms expectantly. “Just tell me the truth, Cat Noir. What’s going on with you?” 

His mouth pressed into a firm line.

She stared at him, lips parting in surprise. “What, are you seriously going to keep it from me like a child? This affects both of us. Tell me!”

Something changed in his demeanor then, as though her accusation had snapped something within him. “Childish?” He seethed, claws curling and uncurling. “Is that what you think?”

She watched in surprise, but didn’t back down.

He took several steps toward her, practically hissing. “I go through Hell every day because of this damn suit. This damnable ring, this damn villain – everything we do!”

“Well, so do I! You aren’t the only one that fights them, I’m here too!”

“Don’t you dare make yourself the victim, Coccinelle.” 

She wasn’t sure what had happened to make him so angry, or why he was so tight-lipped about his curse, but as he loomed menacingly over her, she raised her chin defiantly, daring him to continue.

“You think you know half of what I go through?” His tail whipped angrily behind him. “I don’t want to hear it. Not when you’re so, so-” He fumbled for a word, but Coccinelle didn’t give him a chance to finish. Her Miraculous beeped again. Down to three spots.

“So what?”

“Self-righteous! Hell, Coccinelle. Why can’t you just let things be?”

She scoffed. “We’re in this together, Cat. I think I deserve to know what’s going on!”

“But we aren’t, Coccinelle.” His tail lashed from side to side a little more, but he backed off a few steps. “You always think you’re right. You can’t even accept that you should let this go.” His voice quieted, some of the fight leaving him.

“You’re right, I can’t. Give me a good reason why I should.”

He ripped his wandering gaze back to her, wild-eyed. “I don’t know, maybe out of respect? I’m your partner, Coccinelle, not your servant. This isn’t about you!”

She stamped her foot impatiently. 

They stared at each other, unbridled tension simmering between them. Cat shook his head despairingly.

“Do you want another truth, Coccinelle? Something to tide you over?”

Coccinelle said nothing. She didn’t move so much as a muscle.

“I don’t care about any of this. I don’t want to be a superhero. I never did. And I certainly don’t want to fight Papillon.”

Her anger, which had been abating, chilled into something worse. Her mind flew back to a hazy night and a rooftop – the night when her treacherous heart had begun to stumble down the path toward loving, well, him.

“You told me that you’d be there.”

The numbness, the void of her words seemed to spook him. The stoniness of his features slipped, and for the first time in their argument, unease blossomed.

“What?”

“You promised me that I wouldn’t fight him alone.” Her eyes, wide and staring, locked onto him to commit each detail to memory. “Cat Noir, you promised me that much. I can’t do it without you.”

He looked down at the roof, avoiding her gaze. Something about him seemed smaller than before. “Coccinelle, if I could abandon this fight – I would do it in a heartbeat. Even when I told you that, if I could have dropped this charade, I would have.”

Plaintive, she took a step toward him. “Cat Noir, I don’t believe this. I don’t believe that you would have lied to me like that. I-”

“Believe it.” He wrung his hands together, suddenly unsure. “Coccinelle, back then,” he paused, “Back then there was only one thing I had on my mind, and I would have done anything to get it done. Even if it meant betraying your trust.”

Something went slack in her. She bit her lip. “I-I don’t understand.”

“I never wanted to hurt you, Coccinelle. I did try to warn you. B-Black cats… we’re nothing but bad luck.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “And as for my curse, it makes my luck that much worse.” He closed his eyes. “I can’t take my Miraculous off.” Bracing himself, he opened them again. “I can’t stop being Cat Noir unless you kiss me.”

Coccinelle stiffened. Memories sifted loosely in her mind – of late night akumas and chance encounters – of gentle touches and soft words. But perhaps most poignantly, the night when all other things considered, she had truly stared into his eyes and yearned to kiss the boy sitting beside her.

Her mouth went dry. “So, everything was an act? The flirting, the niceties?”

Cat seemed to be growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. “Not all of it.”

A dead little laugh rattled in her throat. “Why should I believe that?”

“Because I had every chance to end this – but I didn’t. Like I said, Coccinelle. I didn’t want to hurt you. I wasn’t planning on abandoning you.”

Her Miraculous beeped rapidly. She had only one minute left before Rikki dropped the transformation.

“Did you ever plan on telling me any of this?”

“Yes, no, I mean – I wasn’t going to make you kiss me. And if you did, I thought, well, I thought that if I just eventually left, you’d get along better without me.”

“And you didn’t think that that would break my heart?” There was a distinct pressure behind her eyes. Even as the rain continued, she could sense tears mounting. “You didn’t think that by leaving after I kissed you that I wouldn’t think I’d done something wrong? You honestly thought I’d be okay after something like that? I can’t believe you!”

“Coccinelle, I kept this from you for a reason. I knew you’d overreact. I didn’t _do_ any of that!”

“But you wanted to, Cat! That’s the point! How can I have a partner by my side that just wants to use me?”

He stilled. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“What do you mean?” She was tired, and wet, and cold to the bone. All she wanted to do was to race home and forget, forget, forget.

He reached out a hand toward her. “If you can’t stand the sight of me, if you want me to leave and never bother you again, Coccinelle, you can end this for us both right now.”

 _Oh._ It took her a moment to catch on to what he was saying. She could kiss him, take all that fear and anger and let him go free – bailed out after stealing her heart.

She didn’t reach for his hand.

“You want me to kiss a man I don’t love?” Coldness raced through her veins, that hollowing sense of betrayal poisoning her. She grinned a wicked grin.

His hand faltered, falling back beside him. “Coccinelle, this is not the life I want. Please. Help me.”

“Why should I help my enemy?”

“What?” he spluttered, perplexion clear. “What do you mean by enemy? We’re partners.”

“Partners don’t use each other, Cat.” It was all too much. They were both crying by that point, both broken and humbled by the truth – a reveal that would scourge them until she gave in. “No. No, Cat Noir. You’re going to keep your promise. You’ll fight Papillon with me.”

“Coccinelle, please. You can’t do this to me-”

“Oh can’t I?” She retorted through gritted teeth.

He stared at her, gaping.

_"You are my enemy."_

The ceaseless rain had drenched them both. Their hair was plastered to their foreheads and caught in their masks, but neither of them cared. She backed away from him, nearing the edge of the rooftop.

_"And I am yours."_

His voice was but a whisper, pleading, _"It doesn't have to be this way. Coccinelle...”_

Her heart finally gave way. Choking under the weight of the torrent threatening to overcome her, she gasped out, _"You gave me no other choice."_

The rain was pelting down on them, cutting through their suits. Lightning flashed overhead.

 _“Goodbye, Cat Noir,”_ she bade softly, as though caught in a dream she hardly dared to awaken from.

The rapid beeping of her Miraculous suddenly became the only thing she could focus on.

Coccinelle vanished and the words on the page ran dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so looking forward to writing this <3
> 
> I didn't do too much editing before posting this, so if there are any grievous errors I've made - please let me know so I can fix them!
> 
> \- Tournt c:  
> Come _bug_ me at [tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com](https://tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I just wanted to start this chapter by saying just how much I appreciate every one of you. 
> 
> The reactions I’ve gotten from this are overwhelmingly positive. You guys say the nicest things in your comments and your questions, and while I don’t always reply to all of them – they make my heart feel like it’s about to burst. I want to cry when I read some of the sweet things you say, and every time I get a question or someone picks up on a little thing – I just get so excited about it.
> 
> So, in the end, this chapter, this story, they’re all for you. Whether you’re a repeat commenter or you’ve said something once, whether you leave a kudos or subscribe to alerts – thank you. I honestly don’t know if I’d be doing this and committing to seeing it through without you, and I am so blessed to be having such a positive experience with this. c:
> 
> I hope you all have a very lovely day! <3

Her eyes were shut. She saw nothing – nothing save for the rippling blue of the void in the back of her mind’s eye. It drew her back, further and further, and spat her out as though she were nothing – as though her mortal body had no business entangling with matters it couldn’t comprehend.

The void between the worlds was empty, yet, at the same time, it was full.

Sound was deadened and the only stagnant air came from whatever had been caught in her lungs at the moment of her entrance. The blue gel sucked at her suit and all around her tasted of metal and rust and bittersweet memories.

The void was nothing, and the void was everything.

The void comforted her, cradled her.

The void poisoned her, ripped at her.

The void, it would seem, was nothing more than a fantasy.

A cold breeze caught a loose lock from Bridgette’s bangs, and the shock of it forced her eyes open. Greedily, she gulped down a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been fighting against. She raised a hand to brush her hair back, and slowly closed her eyes again, this time not letting herself slip back into the same memory. 

It had been two weeks. 

Weeks spent with family she didn’t know. Weeks spent with friends she had been pushing away. Weeks spent in Marinette’s shadow. 

Two weeks without Félix.

And two weeks with Chat Noir.

Bridgette stretched her legs out before her and set down her pencil. She had been sketching the bridge facing her, hoping for an answer to her problems, but had gotten caught up in a whirlwind of other thoughts. None of which were particularly useful.

She’d always liked the Pont des Arts, especially back when they allowed locks on the bridge. She had certainly daydreamed about putting her own on there someday.

Once with her partner, and then with Félix.

As she stared at the glass, she wondered how they were doing – both of them. Félix, well, Félix was probably fine. Marinette was probably handling that front very well – or at least, she probably wasn’t doing any real damage.

Cat, on the other hand… Once he’d figured it out, once he’d realized that Ladybug wasn’t Coccinelle, had he tried to kiss her? Was he even Cat Noir anymore?

Had he broken his promise?

Had he left Marinette on her own?

If there was one thing Bridgette truly regretted about this, it was that she wasn’t able to be there for Marinette when she found out about Chat’s curse. Although Marinette didn’t seem to have romantic ties to her Chat, it certainly wouldn’t be an easy thing to go through, especially without anyone by her side.

The sharp coo of a pigeon and the rustle of feathers drew Bridgette’s attention. Across the way, a young group of boys threw stones at the bird, which was angrily hopping away from them and flapping a useless wing.

One of the pebbles struck the bird’s broken limb. Bridgette blinked in surprise as the boys let out a raucous fit of laughter.

Her pencil nearly snapped in her hand.

She dropped the sketchbook and stood bolt upright from the bench she’d laid claim to. Marching over to the boys, she yelled, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

At her sharp cry, the three boys turned and scattered, clearly expecting retribution from an adult. None of their parents seemed to be nearby, but that didn’t stop Bridgette from hurling reprimands at their fleeing forms. She stamped her foot with a huff as they vanished and waited only seconds before turning to check on the bird.

The bird continued its journey away from her, hobbling along the edge of the Seine. Except for the ruffled feathers along its neck and the anxious coos it was letting out, it seemed to be alright after the attack. Bridgette gave the bird a cursory glance, eyes lingering on its broken wing, before pivoting and walking straight into a solid chest.

“Whoa, careful there!” Warm arms steadied her as she stumbled to right herself.

She pulled back from the all-too-casual embrace with a bitter retort on the tip of her tongue. She took in the figure before her and the insult, and the aftermath of her rage, died away.

Bridgette closed her eyes tight, and then reopened them as though she expected him to vanish. _“Adrien?”_

He smiled tightly with a little shrug of his shoulders. “You caught me. Or, rather, I guess I caught you.”

She had to search for words. “W-what are you doing here?”

“Ah,” Adrien dropped his gaze, looking over her shoulder to the Pont des Arts. “I escaped my bodyguard so I could come down here. I didn’t know you were here.”

Bridgette followed his gaze to the bridge, where a few lovestruck couples had found a way to link locks between the glass panels that had replaced the former chain links. She hesitated before asking, “Did you ever leave a lock here? Before they took them down?”

He started in surprise, but quickly composed himself. “No. Did you?”

She shook her head, a sadness beginning to bore into her heart. “No, but I wanted to.”

He sighed. “Yeah. So did I.”

Bridgette stepped around him to pick up her sketchbook again. She sat on the bench and patted the seat beside her for him to join her. They rested there for a moment, watching energetic tourists bombard the bridge with selfies and watching the river run by.

“Marinette?”

It took Bridgette a half-second to respond, nearly forgetting the role she was playing. Almost mechanically, she turned to look at him.

He had sprawled across the bench, legs stark out before him and arms trailing along the upper edge of the bench – dangerously close to being around her. She frowned at that, but he seemed to have genuinely not noticed.

“Can I talk to you about something?” He watched the sky with a haunting reverence.

She closed her sketchpad and twisted her body to face him better. “Me?”

“Yeah, I just,” he took in a deep breath. “I think I need to talk about it because I’m going absolutely mad.”

Her brows rose. “Go on.”

“I’m seeing things that I’m obsessing over and I feel like I’m the only one that’s noticing them.” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t even know where to begin. I don’t even know if what I’m noticing is real.”

Bridgette tilted her head ever-so-slightly. “Then start with what’s easiest. What’s something that’s bothering you that you know is real?”

Adrien removed his arms from the back of the bench and wrapped them around himself, still slouching horribly. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His quiet reply came, “My friend is gone. I can’t do anything about it, because I don’t know where she is and I-I can’t help her.”

“Gone?” Bridgette repeated dumbly. “Adrien, if your friend is missing, you should go to the police about it!”

“She,” he hesitated and his face scrunched up as though he were having difficulty finding the words. “She’s not missing in the conventional sense.”

“Oh.” Bridgette peered curiously at him, trying to read between the lines. “Is she just uh, a missing presence in your life? Has she drifted from you?”

Adrien awkwardly replied, squirming under her gaze, “Not exactly.”

Bridgette was tempted to put more pressure on the boy, but took a step back instead. “Alright, can you reach out to her at all?”

“No.”

“Can’t even send her a text or an email or anything?”

“No, no, and no.”

Bridgette let out a disgruntled _harrumph_ and tapped her nails against the side of the bench.

A prolonged silence filled the gap. The pigeon with the broken wing had found a wrapper on the ground and was pecking curiously at it, looking for food.

“There’s someone who knows something about her… disappearance, though.”

“Oh?” Bridgette tried to sound interested in the conversation, but was quickly losing focus.

She turned to look at him again and found him staring at her. A defensive streak flashed through her. A subconscious warning bell sounded.

“Can you talk to them about it?” Her voice was low, suspicious.

He grew guarded, but met her challenging glare with his own. “I’m trying.”

_He knows._

Bridgette had to bite her tongue to keep herself from revealing anything.

_He knows you aren’t her._

It would seem, however, that Adrien didn’t care so much about being discreet. His eyes softened and he gently put a hand on her shoulder. With his thoughts so clear, so vulnerable, with his heart resting on his sleeve, it was hard for Bridgette to keep her feelings from reaching out in sympathy.

“What happened to Marinette?” He whispered, as though not wanting anyone else to hear – though the only living thing near them was the pigeon.

“I am Marinette,” she whispered back harshly.

“No,” he frowned. “You aren’t.”

She wanted to deny it. She wanted to throw up a cheerful grin and brush his concerns away. She wanted to call him silly for ever thinking such a thing.

But that would be a lie.

And Ladybugs never lied.

Bridgette plucked the pins out of her careful bun and let the heavy weight of her hair drape past her shoulders. “It was the hair, wasn’t it?”

Adrien nodded, openly staring at the girl who wasn’t quite the one he knew. “You… look so much like her.”

She laughed drily. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Does anyone else know?”

Bridgette shook her head. “No.”

Adrien paused again. Bridgette couldn’t blame him – he must have had a lot of questions. Still, it was kinda sweet that he had noticed something was amiss.

“So, what, are you a cousin or something, or?”

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No. I-I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“Why don’t you start with what you know is real?”

Bridgette’s mouth dropped a little at the words. Adrien merely smirked at her, pleased with himself for turning her words on her.

She huffed and raised her chin. “It had something to do with an akuma.”

Adrien sat forward, leaning on his knees. “Go on.”

“I’m not from this world. I’m Marinette, but just, not here. My Paris isn’t like this.”

He studied his hands. Bridgette spotted a silver ring on his finger that she hadn’t noticed before. 

“What is it like?”

She barely suppressed a shiver. “It’s darker. It’s harsher. Akuma here, they’re nothing. Sure, they want Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s Miraculouses, but they don’t kill to get what they want.”

He blanched. She turned her pencil over in her hands to distract herself from the look on his face. 

“But, I’m sure Marinette is okay. She’s braver than you’d think.”

Adrien smiled at that, slightly, like recalling a fond memory. “So… you got caught in an akuma attack and it switched you two?”

She nodded.

“Do you think that could have happened to anyone else?”

Bridgette frowned. “I’m not sure. And I don’t know how to fix it.”

Adrien worked his jaw in thought. “Maybe you should talk to Alya. If she puts something on the Ladyblog, she might be able to get Ladybug and Chat Noir to talk to you about it. Maybe they can find a solution.”

“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes. “Please don’t bring up Chat Noir. We were having such a nice moment.”

Curiously, Adrien asked, “Why not? What’s wrong with him?”

Bridgette’s blue eyes shifted onto the river flowing beneath their feet. “He’s different where I’m from. A little less bravado and one Hell of a liar.”

“Well,” Adrien cocked his head to the side. “Just because he’s bad there doesn’t mean he’s bad here. He’s saved Marinette before, you know. Give him a chance.”

She let out a noncommittal mumble, but Adrien seemed to take that as answer enough.

“I have one more question for you, though.”

Bridgette waved a hand for him to continue and he broke into a grin.

“What’s your name?”

Startled, she flinched back. “My name?”

“Yeah. I can’t just go around calling you not-Marinette.”

Against all odds, she laughed at that. A warm feeling expanded in her chest. “Bridgette. My name is Bridgette.”

“Well, Bridgette,” he held out a hand for her to shake, “it is very nice to meet you.”

Bridgette shook his hand firmly, but didn’t let the touch linger. He glanced at his watch and bit his lip. He was going to be in loads of trouble, if she could tell by the expression on his face.

“Go,” she ushered, prodding at his shoulder.

The briefest hesitation flashed on his face before he hurriedly stood and started across the bridge. “You’ll contact me if anything changes, right? If you need anything?”

“Of course!”

As she watched his fleeing form, she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. It felt, well, it felt incredible to have someone know her secret. She couldn’t ever have imagined feeling so lighthearted, just hearing her name said to her again.

She packed up her belongings and started across the bridge herself, heading for home. She could have transformed and taken a little bad luck, but she felt like taking the time to think – allowing the clustered streets to envelop her and distract her. Adrien had had a point about contacting Chat Noir and Ladybug about her situation. They _were_ the professionals when it came down to akuma. She just… couldn’t bring herself to talk to Chat. Even if he wasn’t hers, the memories still haunted her.

But what was it he had said about Alya? She knew the girl had a blog about the superheroes and that it was fairly popular, but she couldn’t imagine the two actually following it. Well, in Marinette’s case, she supposed she’d support her best friend, but Chat had no business keeping track of it – unless it truly was the major source for akuma news. Maybe it was worth spilling the beans. Maybe she should consider telling Alya that she wasn’t her best friend – and maybe with her extensive knowledge of akuma-related incidents, she’d be able to help without any need for Chat to get involved.

Bridgette had just pulled out Marinette’s phone to text Alya when a loud crash sounded behind her and a plume of smoke burst from the doors of a local theater house. The Parisians milling about turned to the source of the chaos and swiftly shrugged their coats tighter around them, briskly walking away from the source. A figure’s dark silhouette showed through the gas. Bridgette bit back a groan and ducked into the nearest alley, poking her head out to take in the akuma. 

The first thing she noticed was the mask stretched across the girl’s face, a classic Greek tragedy mask complete with a carved tear in the corner of its eye. Her long ,dark hair trailed down her back in a braid with alternating shades of reds and browns. Her black and red jester outfit covered most of her golden brown skin, except for where the mask didn’t quite cover her neck. The jester hat was in her gloved hand and the golden bells along the tips were glowing with a red energy.

The second thing she noticed was the elephant.

The elephant prop behind her, something Bridgette vaguely recognized from a musical she’d seen, rolled into the street, its trunk animated and smashing into cars. 

The akumatized victim held out her jester’s hat, cold eyes glaring out from beneath the mask. Her cruel laugh resounded across the street. “Oh Ladybug! Chat Noir! You’re going to miss your cue! It’s time for me to take center stage.”

She’d seen enough.

Calling on her transformation, she ducked out of the alleyway to face her would-be attacker.

“Hey!” She called, cupping her hands around her mouth. “I’m over here, you understudy!”

The akuma whipped around, fists clenched. The elephant prop continued its reign of terror.

“I am no understudy! I am Stage Fright – the lead role!” Her hand plunged into the hat and she drew out a cutlass. “And you’re about to get cut!”

“Get cut?” A loud laugh sounded just behind Coccinelle. She knew, without looking, that it had to be Chat Noir. “That’s a lame pun. Although, I do appreciate the effort.”

With a growl, the akuma held out her hat and beams of light shot out from the bells. Coccinelle hit the ground to avoid them and Chat jumped high with the help of his baton. The powers hit a few citizens as they fled, transforming them into various stage characters – some Coccinelle recognized, and others that utterly lost her.

The akuma threw her hat back on her head and waved her sword in the heroes’ direction. “Get them! Now!”

The nearest character swiftly cut Coccinelle off from Stage Fright, but a single glance at Chat proved that he was already on the way towards the akuma.

Coccinelle held her yo-yo threateningly in her hand, ready to release it at a moment’s notice. When the character didn’t say anything, merely lunging at her with a drawn sword, she wrapped her yo-yo’s cord around the weapon and pulled it away from his grasp.

The action seemed to spark him to life. He locked eyes with her and with a flair of his hand, belted out, _”You know nothing of Javert!”_

Coccinelle paused, confused, and the man in his blue uniform took a swing at her.

She ducked back, and all the while he kept singing.

 _”I was born with scum like you! I am from the gu-”_ He was cut off as Coccinelle wrapped her weapon around his legs and sent him flying across the street. She glanced up again and Chat was fighting baton against cutlass with Stage Fright.

She surged toward him, but was brought to a halt by the sudden impact of the forgotten elephant’s trunk slamming into her and throwing her to the ground. The air was knocked out of her and she floundered for a moment. She rolled away from where the tusks slammed down into the ground with inches to spare.

With a hacking cough, she threw a limp wrist up and caught onto the rooftop with her yo-yo, pulling herself out of harm’s way. Chat could handle things while she took a breather.

She rubbed her core, hissing at the pain that streaked through her. That was going to leave a bruise.

Once she was able to breathe again without feeling as though bricks were lying on her chest, she peeked over the rooftop to see Chat still fighting Stage Fright and driving her towards the Seine. She ducked down the steps that brought them close to the water and he followed.

The elephant prop had found a law firm to raid and was breaking down the thick wooden door with its tusks, rolling back and forth to propel itself as a battering ram.

Coccinelle shook her head and ran across neighboring rooftops to get a better view of how Chat’s fight was going against the akuma.

They were right at the edge, each a perilous step away from entering the murky depths. Coccinelle swung down to the top of the steps just in time for a hand to pop out of the water and wrap around his tail. He jumped in shock, missing the akuma’s cutlass by the skin of his teeth, and the hand pulled – hard.

He toppled into the water and was promptly dragged beneath the surface – leaving a trail of bubbles in his wake.

“What the Hell was that?” Coccinelle shrieked, gaping into the water. She grabbed onto the guardrail and leaned over, looking for a trace of her partner.

The akuma waved her weapon a few times and bowed deeply. “If that impressed you, you’ll love the special effects in my next trick.”

Coccinelle peered into the water. The bubbles were decreasing, but she could have sworn she saw something nearing the surface. An unwelcome sensation of relief flooded her. She scowled. She didn’t want to feel concerned for Chat.

Gritting her teeth, she turned her attention back to the akuma. “No, but seriously – I get some of these characters. Javert, Juliet with the dagger over there, but what in Hell was that _thing?_ ”

The akuma paused, eyeing Coccinelle warily, but answered the question. “That’s Ariel. The Little Mermaid was performed on Broadway for a while.”

“Oh.” Coccinelle nodded, it suddenly clicking. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” She leaned against the guardrail, occasionally peeking over to check on Chat’s progress, yet not lifting a finger to help.

The akuma crossed her arms. “What? That’s it?”

Coccinelle shrugged. If the akuma could afford to waste time bickering, she had no qualms about it. “That’s what?”

“You aren’t,” she gestured at the water, “gonna try and save him or anything? He’s been down there for a while.”

Coccinelle glanced over the edge of the rail again, a pout pulling at her lips. “Do I really have to? He’s a big cat – he can take care of himself.”

She couldn’t see it due to the mask, but she imagined that the girl’s mouth had just dropped in surprise.

“Besides, he’s like already almost at the surface. If he can’t take on one measly mermaid by himself, he really shouldn’t be a superhero.”

A purple mask glowed in front of the akuma’s face, but the girl ignored whatever the voice was saying to protest, “Are you serious?”

“As life.”

Chat popped out of the water at that point, claws clinging desperately to the rocky overhang that was level with the water. He extended his baton straight into Ariel’s chest, and the redheaded mermaid fell back into the water.

Chest heaving, he crawled onto the surface with demonic speed and collapsed as far away from the riverbank as he could get. Ariel waved at him from across the river and sank beneath the waves. He practically hissed the moment Stage Fright took a step toward him.

His eyes narrowed and he whirled to Coccinelle, snapping reproachfully, “Why didn’t you help me? She almost got my Miraculous!”

Coccinelle snickered as he wrung water from his hair. “Don’t cats eat fish? You seemed to have a pretty good handle on things.”

Chat finally stood upright, planting his hands firmly on his hips. He stormed over to her and the purple butterfly mask flickered away from Stage Fright.

The two heroes watched as she raised her jester hat again to send out another volley of production characters into the city.

“Just use your lucky charm already,” he snapped, no longer in the mood for jokes. He tugged at his suit where it clung just a little too tightly to his skin from the water. When she didn’t move to use her power, he stopped to glare at her. “Well?”

Coccinelle flicked her yo-yo up and down. “I know I’m absolutely charming – but I don’t think luck has anything to do with it.”

His ear twitched with the patter of approaching footsteps, and in one fluid movement, he turned, picked up a boy dressed as Gavroche from Les Misérables, and chucked him into the Seine. “Just get me that damn hat, Coccinelle!”

She struck like a snake – sharp, fast, and accurate as Hell.

Before the akuma could get her wits wrapped around the sudden change from Coccinelle’s lazy lean to her sudden attack, the yo-yo had already wrapped around her hat. She wrenched it out of the victim’s hand and tossed it to Chat Noir, who lunged to catch it.

As he moved, tail whipping behind him, he growled, “Cataclysm!”

She watched with a little jolt of surprise as a swirling darkness poured from his fingertips – his claws darkening with shadow and ash. Black dust flecked from his outstretched hand, tossing and turning in a cloud of energy – dark energy, evil energy.

He snatched the hat out of the air, bringing it to his chest.

Slowly, as though unwilling to be unmade, the hat darkened and began to disintegrate. The once vibrant accessory was turning to dust – rolling away in the nearby breeze and unfaltering like the incessant pour of the sands of time.

Bridgette watched in abject horror as the destruction reigned, rushing to a crescendo and then disappearing all at once. Chat’s devilish grin didn’t falter for a second. The blur of darkness vanished. He propelled himself forward, honing in on the akuma.

“I think the butterfly is in her necklace!” He called behind him.

The akumatized victim panicked, turning to run alongside the river. Chat rushed to catch up with her, zeroing in on the task at hand.

And Coccinelle?

She was still. Her limbs had frozen in place, just staring after the blonde-haired boy. The sound of her heart palpitating grew louder – the blood rushing through her veins.

_Fear._

Poignant, deadly fear speared through her.

In all her wanderings, in all her adventures with Cat Noir, she had never witnessed something like that – a destruction so total, so complete, that _nothing_ remained.

Chat tackled the akuma, who promptly lashed out with a series of punches and kicks that seemed to do little to slow him. He grabbed the chain around her neck and tugged at it. The clasp snapped open and he threw the mask charm down hard against the pavement.

A slight fissure peeked through the glazed charm and a dark butterfly flapped out, spiraling into the sky.

Coccinelle merely blinked at him.

Chat struggled to keep the akuma from lashing out at him again, a howl escaping her throat as she clawed at him. He whipped around, confusion clear in his green eyes.

“Coccinelle! Come on!”

His irritated snarl broke through her haze and she pulled her arm back to fling her yo-yo at the butterfly. It flew into the sky, and with practiced ease, snatched the insect. The purified creature flapped away lazily.

Chat rolled off of the victim as a purple fog peeled away from her, replacing her jester outfit with a t-shirt and athletic leggings. She rubbed her head, glanced between Coccinelle and Chat, and became very red, very quickly.

“Did I-?” She squeaked, looking down at the road she sat on. Flustered, she got up and ran back to the theater.

Chat visibly relaxed as one-by-one, the fictional characters were replaced with the citizens beneath. Coccinelle let out a breath of relief, but still inched away from him. She didn’t trust him. She couldn’t trust him. Not with a power like that.

Suddenly, Chat stiffened. Cries of alarm came from the Seine. He turned to her, ears twitching. “Use your cure.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “My what?”

His face went slack. “You know,” He made air quotes, “Miraculous ladybug?”

She shook her head, a frown tugging at her lip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How do you not-”

The screaming from the Seine was growing weaker.

The two exchanged hurried glances, but Coccinelle didn’t move.

People died in akuma fights all the time.

It was nothing new.

Chat’s eyes widened as panic set in. “We have to help them. Come on!”

“But, our transformations!” She protested, extending a hand toward him.

He whipped around to glare at her. “Our transformations be damned! I’m not going to let them drown!”

When she said nothing, Chat let out a growl of frustration and raced toward the railing. He flew across the street, and though his Miraculous began to beep, didn’t pause for a second as he leapt off the edge and swan-dived into the river.

Hesitating, Coccinelle ran after him, her own Miraculous beginning to beep now that the fight was over. She glanced over the edge in time to see him surface, swimming with powerful strokes over to the woman who had formerly tried to drown him as Ariel. He wrapped an arm around her waist as she struggled to stay afloat and jammed his baton into the riverbed, propelling them toward shore.

She rushed down to meet them, helping to tug the woman onto the bank. With a sob of relief, the girl threw her arms around Chat and planted a kiss on his cheek. His nose crinkled, but he didn’t say anything to her.

“The boy,” he panted, “did you see him?”

“The boy?” She repeated dumbly, then remembering, locked her eyes on the water.

Coccinelle ran up the steps and scanned the river from a higher vantage point for a trace of the little boy Chat had thrown into the river in the heat of battle.

Nothing.

The little boy – he wasn’t… she couldn’t see him.

It felt wrong, exposing herself like that. When it was her and Cat, they would leave the civilians to the police. With their own lives, their identities on the line – they would never waste precious seconds they could use for getting away. It wasn’t a matter of not thinking civilians as important – but when it came down to it; they needed to be able to do their jobs. If a few casualties were the result of continuing the fight – they had to live with it. It was going to happen. She had hardened her heart to that fate long before.

Coccinelle shut her eyes, taking in a deep breath. Then, with her exhale, she looked back onto the river and caught just the tiniest ripple that she hadn’t seen before.

“Chat! Over there!”

He followed her gaze and slipped back into the river, even as his Miraculous beeped even more rapidly.

She watched as Chat ducked beneath the waves and dragged something up to the surface with him. The superhero was breathing heavily, barely able to keep the unconscious boy’s face above the water. Biting her lip, Coccinelle grabbed her yo-yo and tossed it down to her would-be partner. He latched on to it and she dragged the two back out of the water.

Chat set immediately to trying to get some of the water out of the little boy, but was stopped by Coccinelle tugging at his shoulder.

“We don’t have time for that!” She snapped, glancing down at his flashing ring. “Let the paramedics take care of him!”

“The paramedics?” Chat’s tail was lashing back and forth. He met her steely eyes with his own, a snarl curling his lip. “If you would just use Miraculous ladybug, none of this would be an issue!”

She shook her head, growing desperate as the beeping intensified. “I don’t know how, Chat!”

He stared at her and she stared right back.

The boy began to cough under Chat’s ministration, spitting water onto the pavement.

His face twisted with a grief she didn’t understand. “You’re no Ladybug. She would never abandon a child like that.”

Stiffening, Coccinelle stood, beginning to walk away from him. The Hell with him. He could reveal his identity for all she cared. “You’re right,” she called over her shoulder. “I am no Ladybug. I’m Coccinelle, and I know just the price we’ll pay if we stay here any longer. Are you truly willing to put the lives of your friends, of your _family_ on the line for the sake of a boy you don’t know?”

“She made a promise.”

Coccinelle dared a glance back. His head was bowed. He was on his knees.

“Ladybug swore that we would save Paris, no matter what it took. If it takes my life – if it takes the lives of the ones I love, I don’t care.” His eyes flashed, meeting hers. “I will bear any burden given to me. And I will not let Ladybug’s promise go in vain – not even if I become the only one to carry her memory.”

He stood on shaking limbs.

“So, don’t tell me that you know the price we’ll pay – because I know exactly what I risk every time I fight. This could kill the ones I love – and still I fight. Do you want to know why, Coccinelle?”

She was backing away more hurriedly, but couldn’t force her attention away from him.

“Because I am a hero. Are you?”

They scattered then, with their Miraculouses caving in and a weight sitting heavily on them. Chat called out a time and a place that Coccinelle barely registered as she whipped away. Her transformation dropped as she skidded into an alleyway, rolling with the sudden impact.

Rikki woozily spiraled into her outstretched palms. Bridgette held the kwami close, promising sweets and whispering kind words to her friend as the words echoed in her mind.

_”Because I am a hero. Are you?”_

\---

Chat Noir's breath came out in a white plume as he stood waiting for Coccinelle to appear.

When he had told her that he wanted to talk, he had almost told her to meet him at the Eiffel Tower, but then, reconsidering, had hastily told her to meet at the skating rink where he and Ladybug had gone just before their separation.

It wasn't right of him to ask her to meet at the tower. 

It wasn’t just a tourist hotspot. It wasn’t just a convenient rendez-vous location.

It was _sacred._

It was the sort of place that meant something _real_ to two who dealt in masks and mystery, in subterfuge and when all else failed - blind trust in a stranger. It was a place where they had joked, had laughed, had often ended up nearly falling off the tower from fooling around. They had cried there, had even fallen asleep there on nights when akuma-chasing caught up with them and they could hardly see two feet in front of them.

He crossed his arms, the unwelcome chill lingering in his limbs. It was to be expected, however. With Christmas on the horizon and the end of December trailing just behind it, the cold was predictable.

Behind him, the familiar zip of a yo-yo retracting brought him back to his senses. He turned and Coccinelle straightened, dusting herself off. She blinked at him with those devilish blue eyes.

"You wanted to talk?" She murmured, crossing her arms to mimic him.

He hadn’t exactly been fair to her. He wasn’t being fair to anyone. Chat was upset – of course he was. He didn’t only love Ladybug, but she was his best friend – arguably closer than Nino. So, when Coccinelle had refused to heal Paris, he had snapped. Tunnel-visioned and saw red. All he cared about was doing something to hurt her in return – even if that meant pulling a low blow and comparing her to someone that she clearly wasn’t.

Chat had had hours to decompress and figure out what he wanted to say – but now that they were here, he wasn’t sure if he could get the words out. Coccinelle probably had her reasons. He needed to listen to her. He needed to come to terms with the fact that this wasn’t Ladybug, and that he could only expect so much out of someone he had just met. They didn’t have a natural spark, but maybe, just maybe, they didn’t have to be enemies if they both agreed to put their differences aside for a moment and just _talk_.

Chat unfolded his arms and stepped over to the edge of the rink. She followed, leaning against the barrier with her eyes trained on him. He wasn't sure what it was that she saw in his face, but the bags under his eyes and the fixed frown seemed to soften some of her edge.

"We came here, once." He began. His tail dragged on the yellowed grass, the belt sitting around his hips without the slightest hint of life in it.

Coccinelle followed his gaze onto the ice. The rink had closed hours before. Hell, he wasn't even sure what time it was anymore. He hadn't been sleeping, not when he spent every waking moment trying to find a way to bring her back. 

Chat spared a second to pass an eye over Coccinelle. She looked like she hadn't slept in days.

Well, at least that made two of them.

"Just before Trou de Ver."

Coccinelle became alert beside him. "He was called that here too?"

Chat nodded slowly. "Different worlds, same akuma."

She hummed in agreement. It was about as civil as they had acted since meeting each other.

To his surprise, Coccinelle apologized first. "Look, I, uh, I'm sorry if you - I mean, if I upset you earlier. Our differences aside, I guess I shouldn't have, you know, left you to drown in the Seine."

His lips twitched in amusement, but it wasn’t enough to bring a smile to his face.

“But don’t think I’m saying that because I’m warming up to you or anything.” She immediately moved to cover up the bit of softness she’d exposed to him. “My kwami told me to say that.”

He laughed drily. “Why would I expect anything different?”

If she had been Ladybug, the sarcasm would have earned him a jab to the side or a playful shove of his shoulders. The warmth from the thought quickly cooled when she didn’t respond.

Coccinelle moved to stand by his side, leaning over the rail.

His tail flicked once. “Coccinelle.”

“Yeah?”

Ladybug had always been a blessing in his life. A genuine angel, sent straight from heaven. She had graced Paris with her kindness and bravery.

So, when he had suffered through watching news reports slander her name for not fixing the damage after the akuma, when he had watched Alya Césaire plead into the camera for Ladybug to restore what had been lost, something in him had broken.

“Can I ask you something personal?”

She tensed beside him.

“Why do you hate me?” his voice came out strained, with a raw edge that made her visibly lose her carefully arranged composure.

There was fear there – and sadness too.

“Please, Coccinelle,” he was begging now. He had turned away from the rink and placed his hands on her shoulders. “If I’ve done something, if I can make it up to you – let me! Just please fix the damage. You can hurt me by smearing Ladybug’s name, but you also hurt her in the process. Please. I don’t care what you do. You can take my Miraculous, you can leave me behind – just please don’t hurt her.”

Coccinelle gently pushed his hands away from her. “Do you think I want to?”

His stomach turned, fear lacing its way down his spine. “I think you know more than you let on. I think, if you tried, you could help me get her back.”

Warily, she replied, “You really want her back that badly?”

“Coccinelle, I have nothing without her.”

Something about his answer made her grit her teeth and tightly press her lips together.

“Nothing except a curse, am I right?’ She scoffed and shifted away from him. “I’m not going to fall for that again. But if it helps, there’s nothing I can do. In my world, we don’t have powers like Lucky Charm and Cataclysm. I watched some footage earlier on the Ladyblog. There’s no easy way out where I’m from.” She stretched her hand against the rail, massaging out a kink at the base of her thumb. “But I wouldn’t worry too much. She’s probably handling it just fine.”

He had stopped listening for a while, his thoughts fixated on one word. “A curse?” His voice came out softer than he’d expected. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned that to me.”

“Well, don’t act so innocent.” She rolled her eyes. “Maybe you haven’t said anything to Ladybug, but there’s no sense in trying to fool me.”

He moved toward her as she edged away. “What exactly am I supposed to be fooling you with?”

Coccinelle squared her shoulders and replied coolly, “The curse of the Black Cat Miraculous. That, and I know you don’t really care about Ladybug. You only care about yourself.”

Star-struck, he leaned back and planted a hand on his hip. “I don’t know about this curse you’re talking about, but I can assure you that my feelings for Ladybug are true. I’d do anything for her.”

She let out a laugh that sounded as though it were contorted with a sob. “That’s exactly the sort of thing he would have said too.”

Chat’s brows bunched. “Who?”

“Cat Noir,” she said, as though it were obvious.

He blinked, shaking his head. He leaned back against the railing. “So, let me get this straight. The Chat Noir in your world not only has some awful curse from his Miraculous, but he has a stupid name, too?”

Coccinelle raised her hands above her head as though wondering why she was still talking to him.

“Tell me more about this curse.” He hadn’t noticed how much longer Coccinelle’s hair ribbons were than Ladybug’s before. She glared at him and he raised a hand defensively. “Humor me.”

“The Black Cat Miraculous is cursed,” she supplied. “Cat has bad luck – always. And it won’t go away unless I, unless Ladybug, kisses him.” She swallowed. “He can’t take off his Miraculous unless I do. And I refuse.”

Chat froze, the image of His Lady kissing him threading through his thoughts. He had to consciously focus on Coccinelle. “You… said no?”

She sniffed. “He told me we’d see this through together. I’m guaranteeing it.”

The thoughts of Ladybug vanished, and for some reason, the idea of Coccinelle being unwilling to help his alternate self made a coil of something dark stir in him.

“I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong cat, Coccinelle.”

The blustery wind nearly stole the words from his mouth.

“I can take my Miraculous off any time I like. I’m not cursed, as much as I wish that were true” he admitted.

She let out an angry grunt and stalked toward him, getting in his face. “Stop it! Stop lying to me, already!”

“Start listening to me, already!”

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further.

“This is the real world, Coccinelle. Not whatever fantasy you’ve built in your head.”

Something in her fury faded. “No, it isn’t. It’s not _my_ world.”

Chat shook his head. “People almost died today and you’re worried about something like this?”

“This war is not without casualties. I’d rather it not be me – not when I can do something about this.”

“How do you live with this, Coccinelle?”

“How do you live with it?” Her eyes flashed. “You learn to realize that all of this is Hawkmoth’s fault and not your own. You tell it to yourself over and over and over again until it becomes the only truth you know. You can’t save everyone. You start with what’s real, and you take it from there.”

_”You start with what’s real.” The stranger before him said._

Long hair.

Bluebell eyes.

_“Why don’t you start with what you know is real?” The stranger sitting demurely on the bench beside him asked._

Oh.

_Oh._

It was like she had splashed water in his face. He went slack before her, staring into those eyes that now seemed so recognizable. Trou de Ver hadn’t just exchanged two people he happened to know – he had only exchanged one. She had been right beside him all along.

His breath caught. Marinette… was Ladybug. And Ladybug was Marinette.

He had dropped his gaze somewhere during their pause and scrambled to look back up at the girl.

“B-Coccinelle.” He nearly stumbled over her name. “What can I do to make you trust me?”

Wearily, she replied, “You can start by telling the truth.”

Chat knew he was looking at her differently now, and somehow, she had noticed. She seemed… smaller. More awkward.

“Coccinelle, I am telling the truth. I would never lie to you.” He held her gaze.

She fidgeted uncomfortably.

“I can take off my Miraculous without a kiss from Ladybug.” 

Chat lifted his hand and slowly pried the black ring off his finger. He held it out to her as his transformation rippled away and the metal turned silver.

“Or Marinette for that matter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was wondering - the elephant prop was from the opening scenes of the Phantom of the Opera. :D
> 
> Come _bug_ me at: [tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com](https://tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have anything sappy to share this time, haha. Thanks for being patient xoxo

“As we discussed previously, the battle Roland fought has historical elements. Namely-”

Marinette fidgeted before the class, her clammy hands clenched nervously around a stack of notecards. Midafternoon light spilled past the drawn shades, casting strange shadows onto the floor before her. Beside her, Félix droned on, his lack of interest in the subject apparent as he delivered the information on his cards.

While his enthusiasm was lacking, he had at least had the sense to dress nicely for their presentation – slicking his hair into position and arriving to school in Giorgio Armani dress shoes and slacks that put his everyday outfit to shame. Had she been a little closer, a little friendlier with him, she would have asked him about the designer clothes – maybe stricken up a conversation with him beyond casual greetings.

He was perfectly poised with that bored, vacant stare. She was sure it had convinced most of the class – the professor included. But behind the podium that hid his lower body from view was a restless energy that left him with shaky hands and dark circles under his carefully made-up eyes. Marinette watched as he fumbled with a card, then smoothly caught the action and turned it into an exaggerated flair. It would seem that without even trying he could make a mockery of their work.

She frowned, digging the toe of her black ankle boots into the tile. She had managed to scrape together an outfit for their presentation by scavenging various items from Bridgette’s room. She was certain the girl didn’t wear half of them anymore – but though her white tights were fitted a little too tightly around her waist, the pale pink, a-line dress she had found had only required a few modifications to fit her nicely. It was still a little shorter than she would have liked, but fit snugly around her waist and chest.

She had tugged her hair up into a bun and fixed a gold chain around her neck, a white shell hanging from the center. Her wrists were bare, but she hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to herself. If an outfit like that were already out-of-the-blue for Bridgette, she didn’t want to go to an unforgivable extreme.

The light from the presentation flickered as the next slide surfaced. With a practiced smile, she took over for the conclusion.

“We know from history that Roland fought with everything he had – even if the story was greatly exaggerated.” She grinned a little wider then, recounting the details. “But in the end this exaggeration of the story is what gives it its strength. There were plenty of soldiers fighting – so why Roland? To us, Roland’s story simply shows that even if you think you’re alone, even if you think you can take on massive hoards of enemies by yourself, you can’t do it alone. No hero can.”

Félix stiffened almost imperceptibly.

“Everyone has their Ganelon. Everyone has someone in their life who should be trustworthy – but for some reason isn’t. Whether it’s pride, anger – envy in Roland’s case – it doesn’t matter. The story, the _song_ of Roland tells us about the strength of the human spirit and also of how we need other people to back us up in times of trouble.”

Marinette glanced up from her cards. While the attention of the class was wavering, there were still a few curious heads leaning toward her.

She let out a shaky breath. Public speaking wasn’t the worst thing she could imagine, but it still wasn’t something she enjoyed.

“Think of your best friend. If your friend were hurt, if someone insulted them, you would do anything for them, right?”

Marinette caught Allegra’s eye and smiled shyly at the girl. Flustered by the attention, the blonde hastily scribbled down some notes in her journal.

“There always have been and always will be Ganelons in the world. But – there have also always been Oliviers. It’s up to us to find the person or people we’d stand by in times of trouble, when the odds are slim and everything is left to chance. Olivier died fighting beside his friend, his comrade in arms. What better lesson can we learn? La Chanson de Roland has its flaws and can be very dated, but the relations between people are time-honored and relevant today. Thank you.”

The class let out a spatter of applause for the two. Félix stole a glance at her. She offered him a hesitant smile, and to her surprise, he offered her an amicable shrug of his shoulders in return. He must have been relieved to be done with the project too.

“Does anyone have any questions for Bridgette and Félix?”

The voice of Madame Gravois echoed from her seat in the back of the classroom. As opposed to the young Mme Bustier in her world, Bridgette’s teacher was an older woman with close-cropped, grey hair. 

A boy wearing a green hoodie and matching cap raised his hand. He caught Marinette’s eye and her breath hitched. His eyes, the headphones around his neck… he reminded her so much of Nino.

There was something about his presence that was different than Nino – if only slightly. He seemed a little more upfront, a little more engaged in their school work.

She was so caught in staring at the doppelganger of her childhood friend that she missed his name entirely and almost didn’t hear the question.

“Do you think that applies to Coccinelle and Cat Noir? The whole ‘not-being-able-to-do-it-alone’ thing?”

If students hadn’t been paying attention before, they were now. The dark-haired boy next to the Nino look-alike looked particularly stupefied by the question.

“Dude,” he muttered, glaring at his friend.

“What? It’s just a question. Relax, Claude.”

Claude rolled his blue eyes.

The first boy looked expectantly at the two at the front of the class.

Marinette shot a hasty glance at Félix before replying, “I think it definitely applies to Coccinelle and Cat Noir. I mean, even if they have their difficulties, they’re a superhero team.”

The boy nodded, satisfied, when to Marinette’s surprise, Félix spoke up.

“I’m not so certain about that.”

Marinette blinked at him, and with a hesitant smile, said, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think Coccinelle needs Cat Noir. I mean, I’m sure most of you saw the video of what he did to her.” He looked down, as though dismissing the conversation. “Why should she be partners with someone who tried to kill her? He sounds more like a Ganelon than an Olivier.”

Marinette’s brows furrowed. Testily, she replied, “But we don’t know the full story and the footage was grainy, so-”

“Then why doesn’t he come out and say something?” The boy in the audience proposed. Claude glared at him, but was ignored.

The hint of a smile lifted Félix’s lips. “Exactly, Gavroche. If Cat Noir had anything to say on the matter, wouldn’t he have done it by now?”

“You don’t know what he’s going through,” Marinette blurted out, cheeks turning red as Félix sent a cool glare her way.

There was an odd rigidity to his tone. “And you do?’

Amending her sentence, she cautiously replied with, “No, but I’m sure Coccinelle does, and she’s probably going to help.”

“I don’t know if a killer like him could be helped.”

Marinette grit her teeth. “He is not a killer.”

“Near-killer,” Gavroche pointed out. Claude jabbed an elbow into his arm. The boy in green reproachfully rubbed the affected limb.

“Yes, thank you, Gavroche.”

“No!” Marinette snarled, glaring at their classmate in a way that made him recoil in fear. “No, thank you, Gavroche. Look, just because the two are having trouble right now doesn’t mean that they can’t fix things.”

“Some things can’t be fixed, Bridgette.”

“Yes, they can, Félix.”

The two stood eye-to-eye, fire coiling between the two. Marinette opened her mouth to snap out another feisty comment, when she was interrupted by Madame Gravois clearing her throat.

“I think that is quite enough, both of you. This is getting out of hand. Please, take your seats.” Marinette took a step back, suddenly very aware that the entire class had watched on with vague amusement as she shouted at Félix and Gavroche.

Her mouth went dry. She could almost feel the tips of her ears burning. “Yes, Madame.”

Marinette found her seat as Félix logged out of the program they had used for the presentation. He soon took his place at the desk before her.

“Next up is Claude and Gavroche.”

Marinette inhaled deeply and buried her head in a spiral-bound notebook. Allegra patted her gently on the back, reassuring her that the presentation had gone well, and that she would probably receive high marks.

Marinette mumbled a thank you and turned her head to look at the girl. Allegra smiled at her and rested her head on her arms, watching Marinette.

“Hey, how about we go skating later? If we’re quick, we might be able to get the early-hours price.”

Marinette sighed and the smile slipped from Allegra.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

Madame Gravois cleared her throat again. The boys at the front began their presentation.

Marinette straightened in her seat, but Allegra didn’t move. She glanced down at her to find her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Allegra jotted down a few words in dark ink and slid her notebook across the desk. Marinette checked over her shoulder, but Madame Gravois was fully invested in the presentation and hadn’t noticed.

_What’s with all of your excuses lately?_

Marinette bit her lip as she pulled the notebook closer. She feigned interest in the presentation and wrote in the journal.

_What do you mean?_

Allegra let out an annoyed little huff of air. No one else seemed to notice, though Félix paused in his detailed note-taking. He started to look over his shoulder, but froze and resumed writing.

The corner of the book jabbed into her hand. With a mumbled ‘ouch,’ she read Allegra’s reply.

_You know EXACTLY what I’m talking about. Look, I’m used to you doing this sometimes, it’s just what you do. But lately you’ve been dropping me for the stupidest stuff. What’s going on with you?_

Marinette pursed her lips and fixated her gaze on the presentation as she thought of a response. Nothing good came to her, so she simply wrote:

_You’re overreacting. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just busy tonight. We can hang out tomorrow, if you want? I know I need to buy some new fabric, if you want to come shopping with me? I could use a second opinion._

She carefully passed the note, but to her chagrin, Allegra only rolled her eyes and didn’t write back. The presentation ended after a short series of questions and the final bell rung for the day.

Marinette tried to catch Allegra on the shoulder as the girl hurriedly packed her things and rushed out of the classroom, but caught nothing but thin air.

Disappointed, Marinette threw her belongings together and pulled a black peacoat over her shoulders. It was a little tight in the shoulders, but then again, most of Bridgette’s clothes were. She wrapped a pink scarf around her neck and hefted her bag over her shoulder. She walked past a bemused Félix and filed out of the school, head down.

The clasp of her bag broke open and Tikki flew up to her pigtail, nestling in one of the folds of her scarf.

“Are you okay, Marinette?”

Marinette let out a long, sputtering breath. The white fog floated up and away from her.

“Tikki, I’m messing things up for Bridgette. I’ve ruined her chances with Félix and now her best friend is upset with me.”

“Oh, Marinette. You just have to think positively!” Tikki cuddled against her neck, warming where the chill of the winter air bit into her flesh. “It’s just like you said earlier! Anything can be fixed if you try hard enough. You aren’t ruining anything, really. Everyone goes through rough times.”

Marinette slowed down her pace, savoring her time with her kwami. “You’re right, Tikki.” She tapped the kwami’s head with a finger. “I just, I’m worried about Chat.”

“What in particular?”

“I didn’t want to say anything about it last night because I wanted a clear head before I started. But, I just… I don’t think Chat is cursed and I’m afraid of how Bridgette must be terrorizing him right now. But if he is, I understand why Coccinelle is upset – I would be too. He flirts with me a lot, and I always thought that that was just, you know, _him_. And if he is cursed, then I guess I feel kinda sad, because he should know by now that if he were hurting like that, I’d help him in an instant.”

She licked her lip.

“He’s no Adrien, but he’s still so important to me. I don’t know what I’d do without him by my side.” She tilted her head to the side as she turned the corner and the bakery came in sight. “When we get back from this, if it is true, I’m going to sit down and talk with him, rather than getting upset. If we’re going to be a team, we need to work together.”

Tikki practically hummed with happiness. “I’m glad to hear it, Marinette.”

Marinette rolled her shoulders back, stretching. “Speaking of, I’m going to have to talk to Cat about this. He needs to know that I’m not her. Now that I get what’s going on, I think it would only be better.”

She paused outside the bakery doors.

“But, Tikki. What do I do? I don’t know if this is something I should meddle in.”

The kwami zipped back into the purse as Marinette put a hand on the door. “Follow your heart, Marinette. Do what you think is best!”

The girl smiled down at the kwami and clicked her purse shut. She stepped into the bakery, relishing the heat that flooded over her. She smiled at Bridgette’s parents and ran upstairs to drop off her schoolbag and jacket. She left Tikki upstairs with a little pile of cookies and thundered back down the stairs to mind the till while Bridgette’s family ducked around the back to work on some dough for the following day.

\---

The moment Félix stepped through the door to his home, he knew something was wrong. There were no blaring signs, no alarms screeching shrilly into the afternoon fog. No, all there was was his father, Gervais Agreste, standing at the top of the stairs with a disapproving frown that could rival a bookish schoolmarm.

Quietly, he shut the door behind him with the pads of his fingers. He nodded up at the man. “Father.”

Gervais lifted a manila file folder and without a word, dropped it on the steps. Pictures and papers flew out, draping down the stairs in a messy array.

“An absolute disgrace.”

His voice was quiet, but Félix still flinched. “Father, I don’t understand.”

“Do you know what those were, _son_?” He spat the last word.

Neither of them moved.

“You were told of the importance of your latest shoot, and what did I get? Garbage. This is, without a doubt, the worst job you’ve ever done.”

Félix crossed his arms in front of him, clutching his bag tightly. “I apologize. I’m sure your assistant can clear my schedule and I can redo the shoot.”

“No.” Gervais Agreste began his descent down the steps. “You have ruined my image enough. This is unforgivable. And as it would appear, it is not only your public appearance that is driving my name in the dirt. You are unworthy of the Agreste name.”

Félix grit his teeth together, confusion bearing into anger. “What did I do wrong?”

“Your grades are slipping. Having a fool for a son is useless. Our family is better than that. You should be better than that.” He reached the bottom of the stairs and tugged at his tie. “If you are unable to restore your grades within the week, I’m afraid I’ll have to put you back into private tutoring.”

“Father!” 

His only escape. His only freedom. 

His outburst seemed to have no effect on Gervais. “You can’t!”

“I can, and I will.” His father scoffed, stopping before the door to his office. “You know? I’m actually disappointed. I was starting to think that you were a worthy investment. You were starting to prove yourself.” Their eyes met across the hall. “Now I understand why your mother walked out on you.”

Félix’s heart stopped. Jumped once more, and then faltered again.

With owlish eyes, he stammered, “W-what do you mean?”

Gervais stared at him, equal surprise marring his features. “You were truly that naïve?”

His vision fogged. Sound became dulled. _“What are you saying?”_

His father’s lips curled in a sneer. “You truly are a fool.” And without a word to explain himself, he pivoted on his heel and stalked into his office.

The door slammed shut.

Félix had frozen, standing in the doorway with a blank stare and numbness washing over him. His brain refused to think, to wrap itself around what he’d heard.

Walked out?

But.

But his mother was _dead_.

He had – he had seen her grave. Had watched her coffin… her _closed_ coffin descend into the dirt.

Félix screwed up his eyes, starting to sway on his feet. His hand reached out to brace himself against the wall as his knees gave in and buckled, sending him sliding to the ground.

There were few things Félix was certain about. But before all else – no matter what his father did, his mother had loved him.

Hadn’t she?

_“I’ll see you later, my darling,” she’d said. Kissed his brow, adjusted her red umbrella, and held out her car keys to the pouring rain._

So why? Why would she just… go?

Was his father right? Had he done something?

The staccato thrumming of his heart pulled him out of the memory. His hand slipped from the wall and buried into the plush, white carpeting. His head was blank. No tears escaped him. 

The light from the chandelier above flickered. He stared unblinkingly at the mess of papers on the stairs – of awkward posing and horrid lighting.

Félix stayed, slouched against the wall for what felt like hours.

His father had said terrible things to him before, berating his worth and challenging his opinions. But there was something different about this – something heart-wrenching and wholly shattering.

Mouth set in a thin line, Félix got up, dusting himself off. He gently placed a hand on the rail of the stairs and climbed, barely keeping his head together as his thoughts spiraled into further confusion.

He pushed the door to his room open and barely nudged it shut before collapsing on his couch and staring up at the white ceiling.

Dragg struggled out of his carelessly strewn bag, sending schoolwork flying.

“Aw,” he mocked, devilish green eyes narrowing in amusement. “So, now the near-orphan is simply abandoned?”

Félix’s grey eyes seemed to glaze over. He was unresponsive.

The kwami floated over to a stack of books, knocking them over with a firm nudge. “Guess things can’t get much worse for you, huh?” The kwami tore at the cover of a book, gnawing the corners. “Coccinelle hates you, your mother left you, your father blames you, and not to mention - you have no friends. Sucks being you, doesn’t it?”

“Transformez-moi!” Félix grumbled into the fabric of the couch.

With an irritable squawk, Dragg was carelessly slung into Félix’s ring, and the heavy sensation of transformation settled over him.

Dragg was right. Coccinelle hated him. His father was caught in some delusion. He didn’t have friends. But there was only one way to find out the truth about his mother.

Cat Noir stumbled over to his window, throwing it open. He threw himself out, across the manor, ignoring the thick fog that clung to him and obscured his vision.

He could hardly see two feet in front of him, but some part of him knew the way – almost as though he had an innate compass leading him to his mother.

Nearly a half-hour later, Cat Noir plopped down besides the entrance to the graveyard and released his transformation. Dragg vanished into his jacket – but it wasn’t like anyone could see him, anyways.

Félix gently placed a hand on the cast iron gate, pushing it open on silent hinges. Suddenly, panic swept over him. He should have brought flowers or a card or _something._

With a nervous breath, he ran a hand through his hair and straightened his skewed tie. He swallowed and stepped into the cemetery.

The path was well groomed, with close cropped grass and a wide, dirt path large enough for a hearse to maneuver. The cemetery was built on a hill on the outskirts of the city. While it wasn’t very large, as Félix walked past grave markers and bowing trees, he couldn’t help but feel substantially smaller.

Sniffs and the occasional sob could be heard as he climbed up, higher and higher to the place he remembered last seeing his mother. He wasn’t alone in the graveyard, but at the same time, with every step dimly echoing, he was.

He stopped when he caught sight of a towering maple. Around the corner, nestled amongst the roots… that’s where she’d be.

Broken branches and brown leaves lay everywhere. He should have visited sooner, even if to just clean up the mess.

Steeling himself, he stepped around the corner.

His eyes widened.

Something was wrong.

The angels with their faces of cold stone. The cross of engraved marble. The peonies they had planted on the plot, praying they’d survive in the shade of the tree…

They were all gone.

Félix dropped to his knees beside the grave, brows furrowed as he read the inscription on the slab of grey stone.

There had to be a mistake. The grave didn’t belong to an Agreste – didn’t even belong to an adult given the information on the marker.

There were, however, a handful of wilted flowers resting before the headstone.

Félix broke.

Any denial he’d had before was shattered, the truth bearing down heavily on his shoulders. He clutched his chest, gritting his teeth as tears rolled down his cheeks.

There it was. The true reason why his father had forbidden him from visiting his mother’s grave. His mother wasn’t dead. She had just left them – left _him._

“Mom,” he choked out, digging his nails into the dirt.

That was it. He truly had nothing. No friends, no family, no Coccinelle. No one cared whether or not he lived or died.

So why did he?

Why did he fight? Why did he care for a city that didn’t care for him?

Sudden understanding dawned on him. His curse wasn’t the mundane and ordinary. His curse wasn’t receiving a bit of bad news after he abused his powers.

His curse was living with himself and his sorry fate.

Félix swiped a hand across his face, smearing tears and mucus. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do next. Probably something stupid. Probably something rash.

Hell, maybe he’d take on Papillon. Maybe he’d challenge him to a fight to the death. Either way would be a win for him, wouldn’t it?

He had just made up his mind, staring at the dark face of his ring, when the crunch of gravel beneath a foot startled him into looking up.

“Is there a good reason why Félix Agreste is collapsed in front of my baby sister’s grave?”

Pale and shaking, Félix shifted to the side, taking in the figure before him. His vision was still blurry with tears, but he still could make out the fresh flowers clenched in the fist of his classmate and the green cap perched on his head.

“Gavroche?” He weakly asked, embarrassed to have been seen.

“Alive and in the flesh.” He dropped beside him, removing the old flowers and replacing them with the new. “What’re you doing here, Félix? Don’t tell me you knew Lucile.”

He might have scoffed if he’d had the energy. Instead, he looked down at the grave and offered his condolences. “I didn’t know you had lost someone.”

Gavroche was uncharacteristically quiet. “Yeah.”

The two sat for a moment, staring at the carefully arranged flowers.

“Did you?”

Félix started. “Did I what?”

“Lose someone?” Gavroche didn’t meet his eyes.

The fog circled around them, blocking out the rest of the world. Félix was even able to forget that Dragg was there. 

He bit his lip. If this was it, if he was about to give up his life to fight Papillon, then he no longer cared enough to lie.

“I thought I did.” His voice was soft. “My mother. I, uh, I just learned that her death was faked, I guess. My father blamed me,” his voice cracked, “for her walking out on us, and I didn’t believe him, so I came here and-”

He couldn’t control himself. He was rambling. He wasn’t sure how much of it Gavroche understood, but the boy stiffened beside him.

“And this is where her grave used to be. I just… I needed to see for myself. She left me. She actually left me.” He finished lamely, tears pricking the corners of his eyes again.

Gavroche was staring openly at him. “Here?”

Félix nodded. A lump in his throat kept him from swallowing.

His classmate had the sense to look away.

A gentle arm wrapped around his shoulder. Félix nearly jumped at the silent comfort, turning to gape at Gavroche.

“I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t tell anyone.”

“You should have,” Gavroche suddenly snapped back at him. “Damn it, Félix. We all just thought you were a heartless, rich bastard. How the Hell were we supposed to know your home life sucks?”

Félix squirmed away from Gavroche’s arm, but the boy didn’t let go. “I didn’t want anyone to know.”

He glared at Gavroche, only to find that the boy looked royally pissed off. “You don’t deserve any of it.”

“Any of what?” He resisted Gavroche’s arm again, to which the other boy raised a stern finger.

“You do _not_ deserve to have your father blame you, and you do not deserve everything they say about you. It isn’t your fault.”

 _"Not my… fault?"_ He cast a lingering glance down at his ring.

He stopped pulling away from Gavroche. A flicker of life stirred in him – just enough to admit, “I don’t know what to do.”

Gavroche squeezed his shoulder fondly. “Good thing you’ve got me, now.”

The walls dropped. The cage around his heart shattered, and relentless hope surged in.

“I think it’s time you stopped being so alone, Félix. You’ve been by yourself for far too long.”

New tears started forming.

“Friends?” Gavroche finally released him, holding out a hand.

Félix stared at it, at him, before pulling the boy into a tight hug and letting out a shuddering sob.

He spotted his ring as the boy, his _friend_ , hugged him back. The curse was far from broken. His heart was far from healed.

But maybe this was just one step. One step forward, toward that barely brewing future. Just one more chance. He’d give it all one more chance.

Fighting Papillon could wait. The chance of a friendship couldn’t.

\---

Ladybug had never wanted to be Cat Noir’s enemy. Even in her own universe, she had never imagined _not_ getting along with her partner. After crash landing on him, after his words of encouragement had led her to believe that they could do it, that they could someday beat Hawkmoth, she had known that nothing could make her lose faith in her dearest friend.

Even if he’d lost something in himself.

It was late. Late enough that the stars should have been shining down on them, but for a dense layer of cloud. Patrol was meant to start at eleven, as she had realized from reading Bridgette’s journal. The two didn’t patrol quite as often as they used to, but it was still a duty the two maintained. 

She found him by the Eiffel Tower.

He had perched on a nearby lamppost, not wanting to disturb the tourists ‘oohing’ and ‘ahing’ over the lights of the tower shining brightly into the night, cutting through the fog that remained.

Ladybug waved, and he shot her a tight smile.

She couldn’t help but notice he was calmer today, and more willing to interact with her.

“Shall we split up, Coccinelle?”

She grounded herself, crossing her arms defensively. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you, if that’s alright.”

The hint of a frown lowered the corner of his lip. “Can we talk as we patrol? I really can’t afford any more bad luck.”

Startled by his immediate agreement, Ladybug took a step back. “O-of course!”

He bounded off in a seemingly random direction and she followed quickly behind. Once they reached the rooftops, they slowed down considerably, picking their way across the building.

She snuck a glance at him. His eyes were clearer, no longer blinded by hate and wrath. Even his posture screamed that a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he loped along, almost comfortable by her side.

“Good day?” She asked cautiously.

He paused, voice tight. “Not entirely.” Sensing his sudden tension, she didn’t press further.

Cat Noir softened considerably. “But something good happened. The first good thing in a really long time.” He kicked at a shingle, sending it falling over the edge of the roof.

Ladybug gently smiled. “I’m glad.”

They patrolled in silence for the length of a few blocks.

“You said you wanted to talk?” He prompted, not quite looking at her.

She scrambled for purchase on a particularly loose piece of roofing. Catching her balance, she paused on the edge of the building. Cat had already reached the next roof and was watching her expectantly.

Ladybug swung across and landed beside him. She put a hand on his arm and he wheeled back, ripping himself away from her with a warning in his eyes.

“I know.” She murmured. “I know about… what happened.”

His brows rose. “What do you mean?”

“I, Cat, I,” she pushed her bangs to the side. “I’m not actually… Coccinelle.”

Cat just blinked at her. He looked her up and down and cocked his head to the side. “You aren’t Coccinelle?” He repeated drily.

She shook her head.

He rolled his eyes and kept walking.

Something about the action sparked a twang of annoyance in her. “Haven’t you noticed that things have been different since Trou de Ver?”

At the reminder of the akuma, his cat ears twitched. She walked quickly to catch up with him.

“Coccinelle went into that portal and I came out.” She huffed, nearly forced into a run by his speed. Damn his long legs.

He hesitated by a chimney, turning to face her. “If this is some kind of joke, I-”

“It is not!” She protested, then added, softer, “a joke.”

Cat watched her carefully and stiffened at the sadness that rolled over her.

“My name is Ladybug. For the past two weeks, I’ve been living in a world that I honestly don’t understand with a partner that hates me. I don’t know anyone. Everything is different except… you.”

“Me?” He pointed at himself, befuddled.

She nodded. “My Chat Noir. I’ve fallen into an alternate reality, an alternate world, and still… you fight beside me.”

Understanding his need to keep moving, Ladybug ushered him forward as he tried to find words.

“So, you,” he began, hesitant to accept her words, “you really aren’t her?”

Ladybug took in a deep breath. “Nope.”

He raised a hand to his head. “So, this whole time I’ve been fighting with you for no reason?”

She could tell he was having a hard time reconciling the image of two Coccinelles in his mind. “Do you remember when I used my Lucky Charm? Against that falcon akuma?”

There was something more alive in his eyes, more excitable at the mention. “How did you do that?”

She giggled at his sudden enthusiasm. “In my world, we both have powers. I am creation and you are destruction.”

His smiled faded. Doubt crossed his features. “But if you’re truly from another world, does that mean your _Chat Noir,_ ” the words sounded foreign on his tongue, “hasn’t told you about…” He trailed off, a look of unease clearly showing.

Ladybug put a hand on his shoulder. “I, uh, read Coccinelle’s diary about what happened between you two. Where I’m from, Chat and I get along really well. So, naturally, when I came here I didn’t get it at first.”

As though her touch were acid, he immediately moved away again. “So, knowing what you know, you’re still okay?” he fidgeted uncomfortably. “With me?”

Ladybug looked down, watching where she stepped. “I understand why Coccinelle is upset. She,” Ladybug hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal, “had a lot of trust in you and honestly, you hurt her badly. But at the same time, she shouldn’t have done that to you.”

His voice cracked. “Done what to me?”

“Rejected you.”

She bit her lip in his ensuing silence.

“If it were me, if my Chat had told me that – I would have helped him in a heartbeat. I’m so sorry.”

He crossed his arms, rubbing his finger in circles around his elbow to dispel nervous energy. “I am too.” He paused. “So he hasn’t, then?”

She turned to him, eyes stretched wide. “Hasn’t what?”

“Told you about the curse?”

Ladybug frowned and planted a hand on her hip. “Honestly, I don’t think he has a curse. I know his ring has at least fallen off before – or so he claims.”

Cat rolled his eyes. “Lucky bastard.”

She laughed at that. His tail stuck out in surprise at the sound, but soon he joined in with a soft huff of amusement.

“He honestly is. He always gets things done right in the nick of time. Ah,” she winced, “I, uh, wow.”

“What?”

The air turned cold and sorrowful once more. “I really miss him. A lot more than I thought I did.”

They took to scanning the streets on foot when the rooftops became no longer convenient. Darker alleyways were easier to investigate from a new angle.

“I’m sure Coccinelle doesn’t miss me. She’s probably having the time of her life in your world.”

Ladybug shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She nearly tripped over a raised ridge in the sidewalk. “She’s probably putting Chat through Hell.”

Cat raised a hand to his mouth. “I take it back. He’s got to be the most unlucky bastard I’ve ever heard of if he’s caught on her warpath.”

Ladybug smiled as they reached the end of the street and turned onto the next part of their loop around the city. “You know, you aren’t so bad, Cat Noir. When you relax a little, that is.”

He shot her a dry look. “Thanks, I guess.”

She nudged him with an elbow. “I mean, come on, to be fair you’ve almost left me for dead and yelled at me quite a lot in the time I’ve been here.”

“You should have said something!”

“I didn’t want you to know,” she protested. “Not until I knew what was going on.”

Something in their exchange seemed to startle him, almost as though he were reminded of something. She cocked her head to the side, but he moved on.

“So, what now?”

She nodded, stopping in her tracks to peer down an alley. “I need your help, Cat Noir. I want to go home. But I don’t know the way back.”

“I don’t know if I can help you,” he confessed. “I don’t have any idea what to do. I don’t even want to be here.”

Ladybug fiddled with one of the ribbons in her hair. “You know, I understand, Cat.”

“Understand what?” He gestured for them to head back onto the rooftops and she followed him up.

“I get how you’re feeling. Maybe not specifically in your case, but I know how it feels to be disappointed. I know what it feels like to lose, over and over again, because even if we take down an akuma, Hawkmoth still stands at large.”

“Hawkmoth?”

A hint of a blush rose on Ladybug’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, that’s what we call him.”

He blinked. “He’s not even a moth, though.”

“I know.”

“He has the _butterfly_ miraculous.”

“I’m well aware.”

“So why is he…”

Ladybug shrugged. “I didn’t name him, don’t blame me.”

Utterly flabbergasted, Cat had to take a moment. He tugged a piece of his unruly hair away from his eyes. “So, you know that I never wanted to be Cat, right?”

Nothing but sympathy entered her voice. “I know.”

“Then,” his eyes welled with sadness as he turned to look at her. “Why does she make me?”

Ladybug stopped him in his tracks and took his hands in hers. “She just doesn’t want to be alone. She’s afraid of losing people. She can’t do it by herself.”

Their eyes met.

“But she doesn’t have any say in this.”

This time he didn’t wrench away from her touch. “In what?”

She took a nervous step closer to him. “I can’t promise anything.” She licked her lip. “I don’t know if it’ll work – but I’m willing to try.”

His eyes narrowed, starting to pull his hands away from her.

“What are you-”

She tugged at his hands, refocusing his attention on her. “Just, please, if it does work – stay with me and help me get home. Then you can do whatever you want to.”

She leaned in.

He stumbled back, hurt marring his features.

Ladybug looked up at him, perplexed.

“Why?” He breathed out.

One word was all he said, his broken heart unable to believe her sincerity.

Ladybug softened and lifted a hand to his cheek. He was unresponsive to her touch, though the muscles in his shoulders tightened. “Because we’re friends. In this world, or the next.” She brushed back a tuft of his hair. “And I would never hesitate to help you.”

This time, when she leaned in, he stood stock still, as though still not believing her. Her brilliant blue eyes shuttered; her breath hitched as she neared.

His lips were soft, especially for someone with such a hard shell.

His free hand grazed her side, though who he was steadying, she wasn’t sure. The hand in hers tightened gently, a silent expression of gratitude.

_“Anything for you, my dear Chaton.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in case you guys didn't pick up on this, I went back and changed PV!Gabriel's name to Gervais because it'll be easier to distinguish the two, just as I do with Chat/Cat and Coccinelle/Ladybug.
> 
> Also, La Chanson de Roland is a pretty famous French story. If you're interested in understanding the report Mari and Félix worked on, I'd definitely recommend checking it out. I tried to make it so that you could understand what the two were trying to say, even if you've never heard of it before.
> 
> And I think that's all I've got this time!
> 
> -Tournt c:  
> [tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com](https://tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? An update, already? O.O
> 
> Little bit of a shorter chapter this time, but honestly I think it really covers what it needs to.

Coccinelle screamed.

Coccinelle screamed, and booked it across the field, tearing past the skating rink and casting her yo-yo out somewhere, anywhere.

Behind her, she could hear Adrien’s cry for her to wait, but she didn’t so much as slow down a second. She vaulted over chimneys and raced over rooftops, only speeding up when she heard the telltale ‘thud’ of Chat Noir’s baton hitting against roof tiles behind her.

It couldn’t be.

She couldn’t do that to herself.

Because the moment that Chat Noir’s sly grin turned to Adrien’s kind smile, Cat Noir’s mocking words became Félix’s constant rejection.

It had to be a joke. Some sort of cosmic interference because the universe needed a good laugh. Because if Marinette’s Adrien was Chat Noir, then Bridgette’s Félix had to be Cat - the very Cat that had hurt her so dearly and sent her on the path to Félix in the first place.

“Coccinelle, please!” Adrien, no, Chat called out to her, pleading.

He had known. Whatever had tipped him off, she didn’t know, but it had to be her fault. She’d given up Marinette’s identity, and for what? Another chance for heartbreak?

Adrien had been so kind, so understanding before. How could he possibly have meant any of what he’d said?

_”She might be able to get Ladybug and Chat Noir to talk to you about it. Maybe they can find a solution.”_

Had he been mocking her then too? Following around to catch her unawares? Being nice enough that perhaps sweet, misguided Bridgette would give him a kiss in return?

Coccinelle froze, nearly falling flat on her face as she made a hurried landing into an alleyway.

No. That couldn’t be.

The sound of her own labored breathing was almost enough to crowd out the noise in her head. Chat Noir landed at the entrance to the alley, his glowing eyes watching her carefully for any signs of flight.

She didn’t move.

Adrien had said kind things. He had been perfectly calm and understanding that whole time. It would have been perfect for an ulterior motive.

But- but he had taken his ring off. He had shown her the face beneath the mask.

He wasn’t cursed.

And he still fought for Paris.

She lowered her yo-yo. Chat Noir’s ears were erect, paying attention for any sudden movement. He took a cautious step forward.

“Coccinelle?” He asked softly, with a lilt to his voice.

And perhaps, along the way, he also fought for Ladybug.

“Rikki.” She raised a hand to her eyes, rubbing at them. “Détransformez-moi.”

Pink light flooded the alleyway, highlighting bits of garbage and burnt cigarette butts on the ground. Chat Noir visibly relaxed as Coccinelle vanished and Bridgette appeared.

A red kwami spiraled out of her earrings and into her waiting palm. Catching sight of Chat, she nodded amicably at him and flew out of sight. Chat followed suit, and in a burst of green light, Adrien stood, watching her. His kwami rushed out to meet Rikki and the two vanished up to the rooftops to speak.

Adrien took a few steps closer, wringing his hands.

Bridgette squared her shoulders and met him head on, raising her chin to look up at him.

He glanced to the side, unwilling to meet her eyes. “Are you okay? With knowing it’s me?”

Jerking back in surprise, Bridgette was slow to respond. “No.”

Adrien seemed to wilt under her glare. He cast a nervous glance up at where the kwamis had disappeared.

She leaned forward slightly, scrutinizing his facial features and comparing them to another she knew so well. Unnerved, he took a halfstep back.

“Um,” Adrien raised a hand to the back of his head.

“What?” she replied, her tone flat.

“Do you maybe… want to talk about this at least? Do you understand now?”

She crossed her arms, uncertainty still lingering. Maybe he didn’t have a curse, but the feelings she still held were hard to let go of.

“After Cat Noir,” she hesitated, “ _told_ me about his curse, I fell in love with a boy named Félix.”

Adrien’s confused frown was enough prompting for her to continue.

Bridgette looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Félix Agreste.”

He didn’t seem to catch on for a moment. When the weight of what she said hit him, he visibly winced. “So, now you think…”

“That I fell for the same person twice. And couldn’t make it work either time.” She kicked at a brick wall harshly, not caring when a twinge of pain shot through her foot. She let out an angry grunt, kicking the wall harder.

“Bridgette,” Adrien reached out for her shoulder, but she ducked away.

“No!” She snapped, her understanding turning to anger. “Don’t _Bridgette_ me. I’ve already poured my heart out to two versions of you, I’m not doing it a third time.”

He held his hands up defensively. “Okay, okay. I only want to help you, Bridgette. What do you want me to do?”

“Adrien, why do you even care?” Exasperated, she threw her arms out to the side. She stalked past him toward the entrance of the alley and onto the brightly lit street. “I’m not your precious little Ladybug.”

Adrien watched her go, eyes flashing at her insinuation. “Look, I get that you’re surprised by this, but you need to calm down a little and talk things through with me.”

“Calm?” Wild-eyed, she turned to face him. “I am calm!”

He crossed his arms, challenging, “Yes, clearly you’re the calmest person in the world right now.” She grit her teeth and he continued, “I want to help you so that I can help Marinette. So I can help Ladybug.”

“Why?”

“Because I miss her, that’s why!”

Bridgette let out another frustrated groan and folded her arms, mimicking him.

“Look, you’ve been trying to protect Marinette. I get it. I’m sure I’d try and do the same for an alternate me, too. But, the best way you can help her is by helping me get her back here.”

He was right and she knew it. 

At the sight of Rikki returning to her, she mumbled, “And where’s the good luck you’re supposed to be giving me?” Returning her focus to the boy before her, she replied with a shake of her head and a quieter voice, though was no less irritated. 

“Please, I just need some time to think about this. Give me a day.”

As she relaxed, he seemed to follow suit. The tension in his shoulders melted. He nodded, about to agree when a dark object soared past Bridgette, barely missing clipping her neck.

With a cry of alarm, she darted forward into the alley. Down the street, a black and white form amassed in a swirl of skirts, and a swarm of small, rectangular objects floated around her.

Rikki stopped just before Bridgette, staring up at her charge and asking cheekily, “Was that enough good luck for you?”

In another time, in another mood, she might have laughed at the irony.

Adrien rushed forward, peering around the corner at the akuma and the piano keys she sent out from her floating supply. “We have work to do. Let’s go.”

Only hesitating for a moment, she nodded sharply and retransformed.

The woman at the end of the street didn’t seem to notice the two as they slunk closer, keeping to the shadows. Her short hair was striped with black and white, and dark paint traced a butterfly across her pale skin. Where red veins should have crossed her eyelids, black had replaced them. The only splash of color on her was where her lips had been painted crimson.

Without a word, Chat broke away from her, darting across the street while the akuma’s back was turned. Keeping a watchful eye on him, Coccinelle advanced from the opposite side until she was on the rooftop adjacent to the akuma, who was shooting her piano keys at the nearest store.

Coccinelle’s brows furrowed. She edged a little closer to the gutters and peered over at the shop. A glowing treble clef hung next to a neon ‘OPEN’ sign.

Across the way, Chat looked as though he was ready to reveal his position. He nodded at her, expectantly, but she held a hand up for him to wait.

Without waiting to check his reaction, she lowered herself to the ground to get a better view of the shop. She ducked behind a floating set of piano keys and ran alongside them, the dense cloud blocking her from the akuma’s sight. She ducked behind a postbox and stole a glance around it to better examine the offending shop.

Though most of the glass of the windows and door had been shot out by piano keys, what remained loudly pronounced low prices and store-wide savings. She frowned and tucked herself back behind the postbox. Across the way, Chat Noir was also lying low, pressed carefully to the roof on his stomach.

Coccinelle let out a little hum, wondering what could possibly be the akuma’s motive for destroying a music shop when she was so elaborately decorated in piano-themed garb. She stole another glance toward the akuma and froze.

She was gone.

Coccinelle blinked, leaning out just a little further, and then-

“Coccinelle, watch out!”

Acting on instinct, she lunged forward, away from the akuma that had managed to sneak behind her. A piano key struck the back of her leg and she hissed in pain as she rushed into the street and twirled her yo-yo as a shield.

“Oh look, a little bug has come to learn a lesson from Pianarchy.” The akuma cackled and the keys around her formed a defensive barrier. A volley of keys were deflected by Coccinelle’s weapon. She grunted as the force of the attack made her stumble back a few steps.

Her yo-yo slowed as Pianarchy approached. She had to find where that blasted akuma was.

“Where’s your kitty-cat friend? I’d like to teach him a thing or two, too.”

Chat’s baton knocked a swarm of keys down to the ground as he leapt into the fray. “My piano skills are already _paws_ -itively acceptable, thank you very much.”

Coccinelle ducked back a few steps as Chat took the fight head on, deflecting keys and making up distance to get closer to the victim. She had to figure it out, and quick. With the blending blacks and whites, it was difficult to get a good look at anything clear on the akuma’s person.

She bit her lip and whipped her yo-yo up to stop a barrage of keys. Chat landed a hit on the akuma, who stumbled back.

A cry of pain and a blur of white against the streetlights stopped her in her thoughts. Chat’s baton went flying as a stray key smacked into his head. His hand reached to rub the affected spot, which was already pricking with blood.

Coccinelle’s gasp of surprise seemed to catch the akuma’s attention, as though she’d forgotten entirely about the Ladybug-themed hero. Moving quickly, she cast her yo-yo out to Chat’s flung baton, whipping it back into his hands as Pianarchy’s keys rapidly approached. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself against the pain of the blunt objects slamming into her.

But they never came. Instead, a series of thumps and a yelp of pain sounded from something just in front of her.

Chat had managed to snag his baton out of the air, but hadn’t had time to deflect the set of keys with it.

Her eyes popped open to catch a glimpse of teary, squinting green eyes meeting hers. His pupils had narrowed to slits.

“Chat?” She whispered, shock coursing through her system.

His arms were half around her, his back to the akuma.

Pianarchy let out a particularly amused giggle. “Did that hurt, Kitty-cat? It certainly looks like it did.”

His arms dropped to the side. A drop of blood fell from his fingertips. Coccinelle’s breath hitched as he took a step and stumbled forward, falling to an awkward half-sit, half-kneel. His shaking hand propped him off the ground.

She inched closer to him, trying to get a better look at where the sharp keys had struck.

Bile rose in her throat.

His back was absolutely ravaged.

Large tears had cut through the fabric of his suit with raised red welts already beginning to pour blood.

Coccinelle froze, staring at him and trying to form words.

He had taken the hit for her. If he’d hesitated for even a second - she’d be down for the count.

The akuma smiled at them, stretching out an arm. “Hand over your Miraculous, Ladybug. Or that’ll be you next. Just like those bastards that ran me out of business.”

Chat grit his teeth, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Coccinelle, focus. Where’s the akuma?”

“The akuma?” She breathed, unable to wrench her gaze away from where he now sat, pain streaking through his voice. Pianarchy stepped closer. Coccinelle swallowed. “Right, the akuma.”

Steeling herself, Coccinelle turned back to the store, thinking quickly. Her leg was throbbing, but she was in far better shape than Chat. She bit back a frustrated growl, dodging another volley of keys. Movement from across the way caught her attention.

“Ladybug! Her wrist!”

Her head snapped from the inquisitive young reporter she’d need to have words with later to Pianarchy’s wrist. The akuma twisted toward Alya.

There. With all of the akuma’s flailing about and the monochromatic structure of her design, the white object tied around her wrist had been hard to spot.

Coccinelle stared up at the akuma. 

Chat was down. Alya had just revealed herself.

She had no magic, no tricks, no charms to get her out of this.

But Coccinelle had something Ladybug didn’t.

Her mouth twitched and spread into a grin.

Pianarchy shot piano keys at Alya, who ran for cover around the corner of a brick building. The keys smashed into the wall and sent chunks of mortar flying onto the pavement.

Coccinelle ran for the wall directly behind her, even as Pianarchy surged in for Chat’s Miraculous. Coccinelle held her breath as she ran several strides up the wall, and then twisting, launched herself in the air at an angle she couldn’t have achieved with her yo-yo.

She flipped back, arched at such a height that the swarm of piano keys didn’t reach, and dived down, down, down toward the pavement.

Because while Coccinelle didn’t have much - while she didn’t have powers to restore and create, Coccinelle was the lady of luck. And she demanded fortune as her own.

Pianarchy reached for Chat’s hand and Coccinelle landed heavily on her shoulders. With an offended squawk, the akuma writhed beneath her. Coccinelle crossed her legs around the akuma’s neck and twisted, stretching down the length of the woman and ripping the bracelet off her wrist, a bracelet with an inconspicuous white key attached to it.

Pianarchy stumbled under her weight, dislodging Coccinelle.

Desperate, the heroine threw the akuma towards her fallen partner. “Chat!”

The bracelet and key landed on the ground before him. Coccinelle slipped from the akuma and crashed onto the pavement. Cement scraped her cheek. Above her the akuma motioned to send a shower of keys raining down on her.

“Cataclysm!”

Coccinelle rolled as Chat obliterated the object, scooping up her weapon and deftly slinging it out to catch the butterfly the moment it appeared. With a flash of pink light, a white butterfly emerged and her yo-yo dropped to the ground.

A shower of piano keys, having lost the magic that made them so volatile, crashed harmlessly to the ground beside her and the elaborate dress of the akuma stripped away to reveal a sensible jacket and dress pants.

Coccinelle panted as the woman groggily made it to her feet, staring at the key beside a motionless Chat Noir. Her earrings beeped loudly, spooking the woman into abandoning the key and running away from the heroes.

She drew herself up, nearly tripping over piano keys that were slowly unraveling and vanishing as she rushed toward Chat. His eyes were screwed up against the pain of his injury. His ring beeped shrilly.

There were many things she wanted to say, but only so much time before the scores on his back made him lose too much blood.

She settled for one word, her own shock leaving her unable to say much more. “Why?”

Though his back was shredded, though agony twisted like fire through his veins, he managed a little huff of amusement. “Because I love saving Paris,” he croaked, “and nothing symbolizes the light and love of this city better than Ladybug.”

A set of approaching footsteps sent her hand flying to her weapon, but she dropped it the moment she recognized the thick frames of Alya’s glasses.

“Chat, come on. We have to go.” She hissed under her breath as Alya drew near.

He slung an arm over her shoulder, and with a hiss through clenched teeth, straightened. Coccinelle unhooked her yo-yo, motioned to Chat to hold on, and nearly lifted off when Alya called, “Wait!”

Their Miraculouses chimed in sync, urging Alya to be quick.

Coccinelle glanced back to see that the girl had unbuttoned her flannel and held it out to press against Chat’s wounds. Coccinelle gratefully accepted the shirt, but cast a concerned look over her shoulder to Alya, who was shivering in a tank top in the winter cold.

She lifted her camera with an inquisitive eyebrow raised. Coccinelle nodded sharply, pressing the shirt to the worst of his injuries and hoping it would do the trick until she could get him somewhere safe.

“Ladybug,” Alya addressed her, the light of her camera shining on the battered heroes. “Why haven’t you been using your cure?”

Coccinelle lifted her arm, tossing her yo-yo back toward her home. She bit her tongue anxiously, then replied simply. “I can’t.” She swallowed. “It isn’t working. I’m sorry.”

“Do you have a solution in mind?”

Coccinelle cast a look down at Chat, who was resting his head on her shoulder. Blood had matted part of his hair into clumps. All that pain, and all he wanted was for his friend to come home. If she did, Paris could finally heal.

Because as he had said - there was no Paris without Ladybug. Ladybug _was_ Paris. And in the end, that was what Coccinelle vowed to defend.

She turned back to Alya, decision made. “We do. But please, be patient, and be careful. If you get hurt in an akuma attack for the time being, we can’t help you.” She glanced back at Chat, worrying at her lip. “We can’t even help ourselves.”

She cast herself into the sky at that point, whipping away towards Marinette’s home. She held desperately to Chat, praying that he wouldn’t lose his grip on her. They were almost there when she hesitated, recalling the pictures of Adrien posted all around Marinette’s room. As though sensing her hesitation, Chat pointed toward a mansion just a ways away from the school.

“I don’t want to bother Marinette’s family.” He mumbled into her shoulder. “Go to that window.” His tail pointed in the direction of his room, and without hesitating, Coccinelle brought them through.

He detached from her, careful to not aggravate his back. Alya’s shirt was sodden, but most of the blood had clotted.

Coccinelle dropped her transformation the moment she set foot on the floor and led him over to the tile of his bathroom, not wanting to leave stains on the fabric of the couch or the white carpeting.

Bridgette hesitated as Chat broke his transformation and in a ripple of magic, turned back into Adrien. His kwami tumbled out and sat on the vanity to nervously watch his charge.

Face drawn, Adrien turned to look at her. “You can leave if you want. Thank you for bringing me here. Just don’t turn any lights on when you go - I don’t want anyone walking in here.” He pulled his white overshirt off, throwing it haphazardly on the floor.

Bridgette bit the inside of her cheek, and steeling herself, raised her chin. “Nice idea, but I’m not going anywhere. Shirt off, model boy. You need help.”

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. Instead, he obeyed her command, blood already soaking through the black shirt.

She sucked in a breath as she got a better look at the scattered cuts and the motley of dark bruises already traced across his skin. Raised welts screamed of inflammation and clumps of dried blood clung to the back of his neck and hair. His face paled as he caught a glimpse of it in the mirror.

“At least it’s winter, so no one will notice when I’m modelling.”

Unamused, Bridgette gently pushed him towards the shower. “Try getting some of that off. I’ll be outside. Come on, er,” she stalled for a second, “kwami.”

Plagg narrowed his eyes at her, but left the bathroom. She swiped a towel, but didn’t move to sit until she heard the water start in the shower.

“It’s Plagg,” the kwami grouched, floating towards the mini fridge in the corner of the room. She watched as he took out a wheel of camembert and began gnawing at it, watching the bathroom door with his ears perked attentively.

A press at her side reminded her of her original goal. Rikki glanced worriedly at Bridgette’s leg. Though she’d only been hit by one key, it still smarted. Rolling up her pant leg, she help her breath as she examined what lay there.

There was a dark bruise across her calf that ached every time she flexed her leg in any direction, but much to her relief, there was no blood. She examined the spot for another few moments, but finding nothing, let out a sigh of relief and unrolled her pant leg.

Bridgette had just offered Rikki a cookie from her bag when the water turned off in the shower. A few minutes later, Adrien stepped out, rivulets of water flowing from his hair and a towel slung tightly around his hips.

It wouldn’t have bothered her - not if her thoughts hadn’t immediately wandered to Félix.

She beat back a blush, but thankfully Adrien didn’t seem to notice any hesitation on her part. Plagg launched himself up, floating around to examine his charge. Bridgette stood, and ignoring the pain in her leg, ducked into the bathroom to grab another towel for him. Unsure, she cocked her head to the side. “Maybe lie down? That way I can see what you need better?”

Nodding, he turned toward his bed and she lay a towel down over the dark bedspread. He gently lowered himself onto it, propping his head up on his arms. Using her phone’s flashlight, she took a better look at his back. Most of the blood had washed off, but a few of the welts had been aggravated by the water and were dripping again.

“Do you have any first aid supplies?”

His eye cracked open to glance at Plagg, who was curling next to his cheek. “Plagg can show you.”

The kwami, looking as though he were upset to leave Adrien’s side, zipped over to a drawer that Bridgette pulled open. By the time she returned with a handful of gauze and peroxide, Plagg had already returned to Adrien’s side and the boy was looking down at him with a quizzical expression.

“Okay, this might sting,” she warned, sprinkling disinfectant over his cuts. His teeth grit as the solution bubbled and his fingers twined into the bedspread. Wanting to distract him, she quietly asked, “So, you really _love_ Ladybug?”

“Agh, what brought that question on?”

Bridgette paused, wiping away some of the peroxide. “Earlier you said that you loved to save Paris, and that Ladybug is Paris to you. So, does that mean you really love her?”

Adrien nodded, the sting of his wounds leaving him unable to reply for the moment.

She bobbed her head. “That’s pretty cheesy, I gotta say.”

He scoffed.

Allowing a gentler smile to cross her features, she asked, “Why do you love her?”

His eyes shuttered closed. As the pain drew away and she patted the inflamed areas dry, the tension in his arms faded. She shifted to grab a piece of gauze and couldn’t help but notice the charming way water had caught in his long eyelashes. She’d have to check to see if Félix looked just as vulnerable like that.

Adrien hummed, thinking. “Ladybug and Marinette make lots of mistakes.” He smiled to himself, as though thinking of a joke that was particularly amusing to him. “But no matter the identity, she always fights to make things right. She always tries to fix things - especially when she’s in the wrong. It takes a lot of courage.”

Bridgette tamped down a piece of gauze and secured it to him with medical tape. She paused, fingers brushed against the lean muscle of his back. Her mouth went dry. “Do you- do you think you could teach me?”

His eyes opened again, cool green meeting her flustered blue. “Teach you what?”

“How to be more like Marinette.” She looked away from him. “Everything the people here say about her… she seems incredible. So… perfect. I wish we were more alike.”

He laughed into the bedspread and she sharply returned her focus to him, putting her hands on her hips. “Marinette isn’t perfect and neither is Ladybug. It just depends on how well you know her. The closer you get, the more flaws she has.”

Bridgette paused. “Like what?”

“She hates liars. She caused an akuma once because of it.”

Bridgette jolted back. “She what?”

“Shh, keep a little quieter. Nathalie might still be around. She stays late some nights.” Adrien pulled a hand through his tangled hair, picking it apart with his fingers. “But, yeah. Volpina.”

Bridgette cut a final piece of tape and leaned back to look at her handiwork. The worst of the cuts were covered in gauze and tape, but the dark bruises were still unsightly, yet thankfully didn’t stretch above his shoulders. She breathed out a sigh, relieved to be done with the worst of it.

“But I don’t think you need me to teach you to be like Marinette.”

She leaned closer, trying to get a look at where a key had struck the side of his face. Thankfully, while there was a red mark, the microscopic area had already scabbed over and could easily be concealed as a bad breakout. 

“Why?”

“Because,” he turned his head to watch her as she got up to wash the blood off her hands, “you make a much better Bridgette than a Marinette.”

She stopped before turning the sink on. “Do you really mean that?”

“I do. I think Bridgette definitely still has room to grow, but I think she should grow into herself, not someone else.”

Bridgette scrubbed at her hands, needing a moment as a wave of emotion roiled through her. She returned to his side a moment later, perching on the corner of his bed. “Then maybe you can help me with something else.”

Slowly, he picked himself off the bedspread, taking care to keep his towel snug around him. He sat up, cringing at the pain that pricked up his spine. “And what’s that?”

She turned to face him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Can you teach me what it’s like to be Ladybug and Chat Noir? What it’s supposed to be like?”

Adrien broke into a grin. “I would be honored.”

Plagg floated up and nestled in Adrien’s mussed up hair. “Are you done with the sappy stuff yet?”

Adrien pouted up at him, but Bridgette broke into a fit of giggles. “Don’t think I didn’t catch you acting all concerned earlier, Plagg. You were just as upset.”

The kwami looked away from her. “He keeps the cheese coming. I didn’t want to have to get a new Chat, just to find out he couldn’t keep me supplied.” He stuck his nose in the air, ignoring Bridgette’s playful smile.

Adrien lifted a hand to rub between Plagg’s ears, knowing full well that the kwami had truly been shaken by the night’s events. “Why do you ask?”

The kwami flew between the two, crossing his arms. “Because if we’re going to bring back Ladybug, we need to get working.”

“And why are you being so helpful all of a sudden?”

Plagg met his chosen’s eyes, his ears dropping in defeat. “Because as much as you miss Ladybug, I miss Tikki more.”

Bridgette folded her legs and leaned back, exchanging a glance with Adrien. “Where do we start?”

“I know a guy. His name is Fu, and I think he’s looking forward to meeting you two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little note: I've switched over to using a different program while writing, and I've noticed it isn't as good about picking up things like maybe capitalization errors or some spelling, so again, if you notice anything, hit me up. I think I caught everything, but *shrugs*
> 
> Aight, so just a quick word about the ML Blackout: I totally support it and full shoutout to everyone participating. I just personally like to update things the moment I get them done, so I didn’t wait the last few days. Anywho: the only official copies of BMBH are here and on fanfiction.net (under roughly the same username as here). If you happen to come across it anywhere else, please be a pal and let me know! c:
> 
> Butttt~ while I was doing some snooping to see if anything was amiss, I found that some of you guys set up a [TVTropes](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/FanFic/BringMeBackHome) pages for BMBH!!! Guys, that’s so cool! I’m so honored! So, please check it out or contribute, it’s already really interesting to look through (I know I've read through it several times) and I hope it heightens your interest in the story (and gets you through the breaks between chapters xD).
> 
> Until next time!  
> -Tournt c:  
> [tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com](https://tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com/)


	9. Chapter 9

Ladybug didn’t dare to open her eyes.

She stepped back, away from the stranger she had just kissed, and waited for a tell-tale ripple of magic to wash over them, dispelling Cat’s curse. After a few seconds of silence, without a wave of light passing by, she cracked an eye open to watch a disheartened Cat Noir stare at his ring.

His jaw shifted as the ring remained immobile, not even budging as he struggled to rip it off.

Ladybug turned away, crossing her arms as she waited for him to break into hysterics, or get angry, or at least say _something_.

But instead, the faintest of sighs left him and he leaned back with his hands curled around his hips. His tail whipped to the side as his eyes lifted to the moonless night.

She jumped when his head rolled to look at her. “So, what’s the next move?”

“Wait, wh-what?”

He frowned as she stammered. “You don’t even have a plan for getting back? What’ve you been doing for the past two weeks?”

“You’re gonna… help me?” Ladybug blinked at him. “After that? Aren’t you...”

“What I am is a cat of my word.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not a monster, no matter what Coccinelle says about me. Besides, it was disappointing, but that’s never seemed to be able to stop me before.” At that, his tail lashed angrily behind him.

Relief flooded through her. He was a wild element to her - an unpredictable force that could have just as easily spurned her aside after something like that. It was nice to know he still had that undying sense of honesty, even if… she pressed her lips together, fighting back a surge of laughter. Shaking with stifled giggles, she raised her hand to her mouth.

Cat’s eyes narrowed. “What? What’s so funny?”

“You just look like such an irritable kitten; it’s so cute. Your tail is-” she burst into a fit of giggles.

He twisted to look at his thrashing tail, which stopped the moment he glared at it. “Whatever.” He sniffed and side-eyed the nearest chimney. “We need to get going.”

She pressed her lips together in a firm line and breathed deeply to dispel the rest of her laughter. “But, if this is a miraculous matter, will your curse still affect you?”

He shrugged and made his way down the roof, back towards their original meeting point. “I don’t want to risk it.”

She jogged to catch up with his longer stride, arms pumping as she rushed toward him. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Can you get a plan together by then?” He drawled in a lazy, slow voice.

Taking no insult at the jibe, Ladybug stuck her tongue out at him and replied, “I’m sure I will. I’ll talk to my kwami tonight.”

As they traversed the final stretch of rooftop, he paused and, as though questioning his actions, turned to her slowly. “Why didn’t you come up with a plan already? If it’d been me, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep until I had a solution.”

She hesitated before replying, using the opportunity to drop down to the street below. “Honestly,” she sighed, “I wanted to understand what was going on with you and Coccinelle, first.”

“That’s it?” He prompted, disbelief tinting his tone.

“Well, I,” she wrung her hands nervously, “I wanted to help you two. I wanted to fix things.”

That shut him down. Any openness he’d granted her, any insight to what was going on in his head closed off. His shoulders tightened defensively and his eyes hardened. “I see.”

His tail was lashing again, only this time Ladybug didn’t find it amusing. Deciding not to push the issue any further, she took a few steps away, back toward Bridgette’s home. He took the cue and separated further from her.

She had just turned away, assuming that whatever tenuous bond they had developed was rotting away with each shared second, when he softly called her name.

“Ladybug?”

He glanced over his shoulder with the sort of look that aged him considerably. Sadness dripped from him, sadness, and yet, acceptance.

Ladybug crossed her arms. “Yeah?”

“Good night.”

A smile, warm and kind, graced her lips. “Good night, Cat Noir.”

He leapt away and Ladybug watched him go, a strange hint of wistfulness slipping under her skin. She soon followed suit, detransforming on Bridgette’s balcony and pausing to watch the stars through the winter’s chill.

\---

Study hall was a time that meant something _different_ to everyone. For some, it was a time to goof around with friends, feigning noses in books and giggling at unspoken jokes. For others, it was a chance to finish group-work - to hammer down final details for projects that couldn’t be managed in class.

But for Félix, it was always a solitary hour.

Whether traversing the narrow paths between bookshelves taller than him or sitting in a corner to get a head start on that night’s assignments, Félix did it alone, and quite frankly liked it that way.

It was a routine, and having had every day of his life planned out to the last second for the past eighteen years, he was well adjusted to the idea. Only…

Félix absent-mindedly ran a finger down the spine of the book he was examining. Pleasant chatter filled the library - quiet enough to not elicit response from the librarians, but noisy enough to make the room feel full. He plucked the novel from the shelf and flipped it over to read the description.

It had been a long time since he’d been able to read for fun. Before his days as Cat Noir, it had been what filled his time. But once modeling, Cat Noir, and public school filled his life, well, reading had been the one to go.

With a disdainful snort at the cliché lines detailing the book, he shoved it firmly back on the shelf. There were always classics he enjoyed that he could reread.

Tugging out his phone, he checked the time and released a long exhale through his nose. Study hall didn’t end for another forty minutes. He glanced at his bag, where Dragg was curled up along the edges of his textbooks. He could always work on his homework, but…

His thoughts drifted back to that morning, when he’d received notification from his father’s latest assistant, Didier, (poor Nathaniel hadn’t lasted a month), that he was no longer constrained to his modelling ties, effective immediately.

It served as a reminder of his father’s lost faith in him, but as well, Félix almost couldn’t help but bid the job a very pleased ‘adieu’. After all, with the recent revelations regarding the Coccinelle and Ladybug fiasco, he was going to have enough on his plate.

He glanced down at his homework once more.

And wouldn’t it be nice to just stop? Just for one night? No homework, no modelling, no Miraculous?

Félix bit back a sigh as his daydream crashed around him. As lovely as the idea was - it just couldn’t be his reality. Not yet, at least. But, as he had often reminded himself that day, he was one step closer. One step… too close!

Bridgette let out a squawk as he clipped her shoulder, having not been paying enough attention to where he was going. He braced himself for an onslaught of apologies, a cacophony of noise, a great crescendo leading up to some feverish impossibility she had managed to dream up.

But, much to his surprise, she merely muttered an apology under her breath, as though it were a force of habit and having not realized that the affair hadn’t been her fault to begin with.

She disappeared around the corner without another word. 

Félix tugged at his tie aimlessly, his mind wandering again. It was interesting how much more it did that when such burdens were lifted from him. He wondered if he’d miss it when he was inevitably drawn back into some catastrophe. The free time, the empty space… it was alluring.

As he paced down the final aisle, having found nothing to suit his fancy, he let out another thin sigh and glanced down at his books. It wasn’t like he had a large amount of homework to work on that night, it was just the principle of it. If he could put it off, well, he wanted to. Normally, he’d never dare give into such childish whims, but today seemed to be quite the exception. And if he didn’t have Miraculous matters to attend to later, he might have just given into it.

That being said, he finally stepped out of the towering shelves and into the main floor, where tables were neatly arranged and claimed by students. He typically arrived before the majority of his classmates, if only to make certain he was guaranteed a spot away from those who liked to chatter. However, he hadn’t expected that his lazy perusal of the shelves would mean that all the free tables would be taken by other students. They didn’t typically fill up, after all.

His back straightened and his shoulders went back as he stood before the teeming masses of students, examining the seats for open spots. There weren’t many, if at all, it would appear.

He defensively skirted the more populated tables when suddenly, there, in the back, there was an opening. Several steps and a sigh of relief later, Félix set down his bag on a chair and promptly looked up to realize he had just taken the seat across from a familiar face.

Gavroche only quirked an eyebrow at Félix’s hesitation before getting back to his work. To Félix’s surprise, the boy didn’t pay him any mind, even as he awkwardly scrambled to pick up his bag and rush away. He hadn’t gone more than a step before the boy drawled, “Where’re you going? You just got here.”

The blood drained from his face. After yesterday… he was more than a little embarrassed around Gavroche. He hadn’t been thinking right.

Gavroche didn’t even look up from his book, merely flipping a page and jotting down a few notes. “After I went through all that effort to grab a table at the end, by myself, might I add, and you’re leaving?”

Hesitantly, Félix dropped his bag back on the table. The boy opposite from him finally glanced up, bored brown eyes seeming awfully unimpressed by Félix’s presence.

“Took you long enough to show up.”

“Took you long enough to finish those problems.” Félix countered, getting a look at the paper Gavroche was scribbling on. For the amount of time he’d been sitting there, he had dreadfully few equations completed.

“Well, maybe if my study partner had been here, I could have gotten further.”

“Well, maybe-” Félix cut off as Gavroche broke into the sort of friendly grin that was usually reserved for Claude’s antics. He stared as the boy snickered.

After about a minute of laughter and Félix looking utterly stricken by the turn of events, Gavroche set his pencil down and held out a fist to Félix. “This is going to be a fun ride, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if fun is the word you’re quite looking for, but-”

Gavroche retracted his hand, interrupting. “I know this is difficult for you, man, but you just broke the cardinal rule of friendship.”

Startled, Félix frowned. “How the Hell could I have managed that?”

Gavroche put a fist out again, pointing towards Félix. “Never leave your bro hanging. Not for anything.”

Carefully, Félix formed a fist and gently knocked it against Gavroche’s. He had just decided that the action, while strange and not a thing he thought people actually did, wasn’t all that terrible when a dark backpack crashed onto the table and a flash of blue hovered behind Gavroche.

“Tell me how you just did that.” Claude shook Gavroche’s shoulder, staring openly at Félix. “Tell me how you just got Félix Agreste, the Félix Agreste, to give you a fist bump. I tried for _years_ , Gavroche, _years_.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Claude,” he replied nonchalantly, flipping a page on his textbook for emphasis. “Right, Félix?”

He only hesitated for a moment before cracking the slightest of smiles and nodding. “Right. I don’t know what he’s referring to.”

As Claude’s whining grew and Gavroche shook his best friend off of him, Marinette couldn’t help but peek over at the strange sight.

From her vantage point across the room, it almost appeared as though Félix were an entirely separate entity from the two friends - just someone who happened to be sitting nearby. But having picked up on part of their conversation, she couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that someone like Félix was finally making friends.

Friends, because Gavroche had sided with him in believing Cat Noir could be a murderer.

Marinette had been lucky to find some underclassmen that didn’t mind sharing a table with their senior, as Allegra had been avoiding her and she wasn’t entirely certain where to turn next. It didn’t help that she couldn’t focus on Bridgette’s schoolwork, not when she still needed a plan for that afternoon. She couldn’t show up empty-handed to Cat.

Tikki hadn’t been much help either. She’d claimed to have a few ideas, but wanted time to think on it herself, because as she said, some options were more dangerous than others. If possible, she had recommended, she would have been interested in discussing elements of her thoughts with Cat, or better yet - Cat’s kwami. Not knowing the rules of the world they were in was a risky game, and one Tikki didn’t want her charge to lose.

But the problem with that was the potential for compromising Bridgette’s identity. There were few places where the two, or even one of them could detransform without immediately alerting the other to their identity. For obvious reasons, they couldn’t do it at someone’s house - and even a place like the school would draw too much attention. The only feasible place to detransform near each other would have to be someplace public, someplace well-known. But then, Marinette rubbed at her eyes, they’d have no privacy to talk.

Beside her, the girls she’d sat with began discussing their plans for the weekend - growing louder with every passing moment of anticipation. Marinette bit back a snap for them to be quiet so she could think, when suddenly it hit her.

She whirled to look at the two girls, who were discussing a new store and a local shopping center.

Tikki could get her wish granted. They could come up with a plan, and a safe plan - tonight!

Marinette grinned. She just hoped Cat would be as enthusiastic about it as she was.

\---

“No.”

“Oh, come on!” Ladybug protested, expressively gesturing at Cat Noir. “It’s not a terrible idea.”

“But it also isn’t a good one!” Cat glared at her, unimpressed.

Ladybug stood her ground. She had rushed back to their meeting point from the previous night as soon as school got out and that lazy cat had taken nearly an hour to show up. “Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t.”

He folded his arms. “Because, as long as you’re here, everyone thinks you’re Coccinelle. Coccinelle and Cat Noir _do not go shopping together._ ”

“But they could!”

“No, they can’t.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “My kwami needs to talk to both of us as soon as possible. I can’t sit around waiting for some golden opportunity - I have a life to get back to.”

He fidgeted where he stood, mouth slanted in a partial frown. “I just - do we really have to go to a mall to do it?”

“The more public, the better. That way we don’t risk our identities.”

Sighing at that, he finally relented. “You have a point, I suppose.”

Ladybug reached up to brush her bangs to the side. “Besides, I think Paris could use a little solidarity on the hero front. Coccinelle and Cat Noir united… through shopping, I suppose.”

Cat, who had seemed to be warming up to the idea, suddenly held reservations again. A wave of discomfort flooded from him, as though they were branching into territory he wanted nothing to do with. “Is there... something that you’re referring to?”

Ladybug gaped at him. “Do you not- did you not see the video?”

She could tell by the shift in his demeanor that he knew full well what she meant. “So, you saw it too?”

“Yes.”

Cat glanced at his claws as though to appear nonchalant, but his raised cat ears gave away his interest in the subject. “What did you, uh, what did you think?”

“Are you trying to ask if I think you tried to murder the other me?”

His nod was slow, hardly noticeable.

She looked away. Deciding to phrase her words carefully, she replied, “I think it’s a pretty choppy clip, don’t you?”

He met her gaze at that, emotion rolling out and spreading even on his face. “Yeah,” he mused, if a bit sorrowfully. “I do.”

The two wandered down the street, not bothering to take to the sky. Curious pedestrians kept their eyes trained on the quiet two, but no one bothered them, not even when they stopped outside the massive building that housed shops of all kinds.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Cat muttered with a hint of trepidation lacing his tone.

“Oh, come on. It’s just a mall. It’s not going to kill you.”

But for some reason she couldn’t explain, he very much appeared to believe it would. His ears fell flat to his scalp and he toyed nervously with the end of his tail.

Perhaps, Ladybug had mused mere moments after they entered, she had made a mistake of some kind.

It wasn’t the people gazing in blatant adoration or the way the crowds seemed to hush at their presence. No, it wasn’t anything to do with their superhero identities at all.

It was the very familiar face glowering down at her from a clothing advertisement that made the words in her mouth run dry and sent a flaming blush across Cat’s cheeks that she pretended to not notice.

Hot _damn._

Félix’s steel grey eyes glowed in the thin light shining on him, his face carved out from a dark, hazy background. His attention seemed to be placed somewhere just slightly in the distance, and his proud smirk spoke volumes - telling the story of a victory, a conquest, a-

She could finally understand Bridgette’s crush if all of Félix’s ads came out like that.

Ladybug cleared her throat and the two scurried along, neither of them mentioning what had just passed until-

“Adrien’s work is better.”

“Hm?” Cat blinked at her, pink still staining his cheeks as they wandered toward the elevator. He stared at her, distracted. “Who’s Adrien?”

Ladybug sighed as they entered the closest elevator. No one dared to join them. She hit the highest button and replied, “A model I know in my world.”

Cat stiffened. “And you think he would have done that shoot better?”

Ladybug’s brows rose. Was he… _offended_ by that? “I do. But, I mean, that’s probably because I have a crazy crush on him.” She smirked at him, daring him to admit something similar.

But he seemed to miss her meaning, and merely let out a disinterested hum.

The doors opened and the two wandered out. There were far fewer people on the upper floors. Whether it was the time of day or the clothing available, Ladybug wasn’t sure.

“Adrien’s really different here, though.”

Cat finally took the bait, prompting her to continue. “You’ve found him here?”

“Mhm.” Smiling, she left it at that.

His jaw shifted. “How is he different?”

“Well,” she rolled her eyes. “He hates you, for one.”

He inclined his head, considering. “Can’t really fault him there. A lot of people do.”

She smacked his arm, but he merely shrugged.

“He’s also rude. And self-absorbed. And gets in arguments with me every second of every day.”

They slowed to a stop outside of a department store, considering it. Cat took the first step toward it, and as soon as they entered, the employees all dropped what they were doing to stare.

Ladybug dragged him to a section with women’s clothing, much to his despair. She swiped the nearest jacket and shirt she could find and spun him toward the nearest fitting room.

They were almost there when Cat hesitated.

She looked at him expectantly.

“Maybe you should give this boy a chance.”

Ladybug nearly knocked over a mannequin. “I should what?”

“You heard me.” He picked up a pair of pants his tail had dragged off a table, careful not to snag his claws in the material. “Maybe things are different for him here. It’s kinda like with me and Coccinelle. Things are… dramatically different for us. Life may have dealt your Adrien different cards here. You should give him a break.”

She glared at him. “You didn’t hear the things he said about you.”

His lips curled, ever-so-slightly. “I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Bewildered, her eyes widened as the boy before her, who had once seemed so catatonic, gracefully accepted her words. “I-I guess.”

“Besides, if he really is this Adrien of yours, that same person must be buried deep inside. It might be hard to see at the moment, but someone that _Ladybug_ falls in love with can’t be wholly evil.”

Ladybug, despite herself, found herself smiling at his deduction. “If you say so. I guess I can try harder.” She turned to the waiting employee, who didn’t even bother asking how many articles of clothing she was bringing in before ushering her to a room.

Cat leaned against the nearby wall, watching as the red-haired employee returned to her post. She regarded him nervously, fidgeting with a shirt in her hands.

With an inward sigh, he offered her a gentle smile, knowing it wouldn’t give her much solace. “Can I ask you to head to another part of the store? Coccinelle and I have something we need to discuss.”

Without a word in response, she scuttled away, rushing to the opposite end of the store.

Ladybug poked her head out of the room to make certain the area was clear. “You know,” she mused as she shut the door firmly and a shower of pink sparks proved she had detransformed. “There is one thing that’s surprising to me.”

“And what’s that?”

Marinette nodded at Tikki, who floated to the top of the stall, staring down at Cat as he guarded the entrance.

“Most of the people I’ve met here have entirely different names, but not him.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. Adrien Agreste, Félix Agreste. Not too different.”

Silence. Marinette gently set her blazer on the ground, trying out the jacket she’d picked up. After a few moments more, she hesitantly called, “Cat? You there?”

“Huh? Yeah, sorry. I got distracted.” The sound of something scraping, perhaps his suit against the wall, filled the gap. “So, you, uh, you know that model?”

Marinette smiled, shooting an amused Tikki a conspiratorial wink. “Yep.”

“That’s pretty cool.” His voice was oddly strained. “I guess.”

“Cat?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not sensing a bit of a celebrity crush, am I?” She teased, smiling at her reflection in the floor length mirror. “Because, as your friend, I have to warn you that he isn’t all that pleasant to be around.”

The thud of his tail suddenly lashing and hitting the wall was enough of a response for her. The poor guy. Maybe she shouldn’t have gone so far.

Weakly, he asked, “Can we just get on with this?”

She pulled the jacket off her shoulders, deciding against it. “Tikki?” She prompted.

The kwami nodded at her charge and turned to size up Cat.

“I have a few ideas, but some are more difficult than others, and I don’t know if they’re possible given the circumstances. But there’s one that, well, it would be a guaranteed success if we could make it work.”

At her hesitance to elaborate, Marinette frowned. “Go on, Tikki.”

“I know I haven’t explained it to Ladybug, but, Cat? Has your kwami ever told you what happens when the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses are combined?”

His reply was honest, if a bit testy. “I’ve spent so much time trying to take mine off that I never thought about putting another one on.”

“Well,” Tikki ducked back down, cutting off her following comment. Outside the door, Cat turned to a patron, who was checking his phone, obviously waiting for someone.

When he finally glanced up and realized the figure next to him was none other than Cat Noir, he jumped and nearly dropped his phone. Cat just unfolded his arms and gestured toward the fitting room. “They take forever in there, don’t they?”

The man smiled weakly and sent off a furious text. “I think I might be at the wrong, uh.”

Cat hummed in agreement and the man hightailed it out of there. Based on the reactions of now two people, there seemed to be just something a bit unnerving when you stood next to the bastion of destruction himself.

“The coast is clear. Come on out again.”

Tikki perched along the top of the door, picking up where she’d left off. “In our world, the combination of the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous yields ultimate power. Namely, you can adopt the powers of any of the Seven Primary Miraculouses, as well as elements of life and death.”

“Life and death?” Marinette frowned. “Tikki, that-”

“It’s dangerous. And it is, to many, immoral. I can’t advise maintaining the powers for long.” One of Tikki’s antennae drooped. “I’ve watched it consume my charges before. I’m sure I’ll see it again.”

Growing rapidly more uncomfortable, Marinette wrapped her arms around herself. “And what do you want us to do with this… power?”

Tikki nodded. “If you can get a handle on it, you can use Papillon’s powers to create a Champion that can reopen the portal and allow you to pass through.” She glanced between the two. “Both of you. We can’t leave the Ladybug Miraculous behind in this world.”

Marinette’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Tikki, I don’t know.”

“Wait.” Cat’s voice was cool again, distant. “You’re forgetting something.”

“Oh?” Tikki leaned over the edge to focus on him.

“I can’t take my ring off for her to wear, and I can’t exactly wear her earrings.”

Tikki cocked her head to the side. “Why not?”

“Be-because my ears aren’t pierced?” He replied incredulously, as though surprised that he had to explain himself.

The kwami merely blinked at him. “That’s an easy solution.”

“No.”

Marinette spoke up, a gentle wheedle to her tone. “Cat, it’ll work.”

“First off, we don’t know that it’ll work. Second thing - how am I supposed to explain that to my family?”

Tikki exchanged a look with Marinette and took the lead. “You’re right. We don’t know if it’ll work. Her Miraculous may not be compatible with yours. If we’re lucky, nothing will happen and we try something else. But, Cat,” there was a sudden sage in her blue eyes - a wisdom born of a life long lived. “Any other options we try could be more dangerous. I don’t know if this world has an active Guardian of the Miraculous. You’ll need to check with your kwami, but for now, we have no one to turn to except ourselves.”

“A Guardian?” Marinette repeated. But Tikki didn’t reply. Instead her level stare remained on Cat Noir.

“Ladybug can use her cure if things don’t work out. As you’ll be transformed when you get them pierced, it should revert the damage done.”

He sighed, but Marinette could hear the acceptance behind it. “You know? I’m starting to miss Coccinelle. She never tried to pierce my ears. And we never went to a place like this.”

Marinette hastily retransformed and opened the door. She bumped her elbow against his side with a reassuring grin. “It won’t be that bad. I can speak from experience. You’ll hardly feel it.”

The thought didn’t do much to appease him.

“We have to think of a place to try the switch out, too. I don’t want Papillon getting wind of what we’re doing.” Her hand raised subconsciously to her earrings. She let out a wry little laugh. “It’ll be weird. Taking these out, that is.”

His complaints died out, and with a sincerity to his tone that she hadn’t expected, he turned to look straight into her eyes. “You can trust me with them. I’m not going to try anything. Your Miraculous will be safe with me, I promise.”

Ladybug let out an amused huff of air. “It better be.” She tossed the jacket and shirt back on their hangers and returned them to their place. “But if you did try something, Cat, I wouldn’t need my Miraculous to hunt you down and get them back.”

With a tense smile, he nodded. “Understood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire fic is about to become just a self-indulgent cesspool of all the tropes I like and I’m not gonna apologize for it lmao. Thank you guys for all of your wonderful comments! Special shoutout to the repeat commentators and the people who support me on tumblr c:
> 
> Lots of love!  
> -Tournt c:  
> [My tumblr! c:](https://tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com/)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting today to wish a very happy birthday to my friend, Ru, and to dedicate the chapter to her! You mean the absolute world to me c: You’re always so considerate and I’m so happy to know you – I don’t even have words. I hope you have an amazing day!

The morning following Pianarchy, Adrien arrived at school wearing a soft, black turtleneck under a light jacket.

While it wasn’t entirely practical for the chill in the air, most of the students didn’t seem to notice his uncharacteristic outfit. And for those who did, it was an easy assumption to make that his clothes were part of some marketing scheme. Nino fell for it. Alya fell for it.

But Bridgette, having tended to those wounds and having been the reason behind those scars, knew what horror lay beneath.

She watched silently as he gingerly took his seat, hardly pausing in his conversation with Nino as he settled. His posture seemed almost too perfect, and his smile too forced, but some inner resilience fought against the pain silently.

Caught in snippets of the previous night, of blood-soaked towels and her own ruptured heart, Bridgette hardly noticed when the bell rang. In fact, it was only when Alya snapped her fingers in front of the dazed girl’s eyes that she jumped, suddenly alert.

Heart pounding, she gaped at a giggling Alya, then released a relieved sigh.

“Did you pay attention to any of that?”

Bridgette fidgeted with the pen in her hands, looking down at her woefully incomplete notes. “I got some of it.”

Though he grimaced as he did it, Adrien turned to look at the girls. “You can borrow my notes later, Marinette. We’re still on for lunch, right?”

The comment was innocent enough, but to Alya’s starved desire for gossip - what with Ladybug being so elusive lately - the simple sentence was powerful. Her head snapped back, hungry eyes focused and intent on Bridgette. “For lunch?”

She blinked rapidly, fighting back a slow smile from the sudden attention. 

“For lunch,” she confirmed, bobbing her head up and down.

“Good, I made reservations, so we’ll have to move quickly. I want to make sure we get there on time.” The smile he sent her was wholly innocent to anyone looking in, but she caught the conspiratorial tilt of his lips.

“Yeah,” she perked up a little more, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. Between her late night the previous evening and the revelations that had occurred, her normally overactive spirits had been dampened.

Alya, however, was near to bursting with excitement. She shared a look with Nino, who raised a brow as to show he hadn’t known anything about it.

Her interest and excitement only seemed to grow as the second class flew by. If anything, she was more distracted than Bridgette, who managed to take far more notes this time, though her attention inevitably lapsed and flew to the rapidly approaching lunch break.

Rikki hadn’t said much when she asked about a Guardian in their universe. Her vague response was unsettling, but in some ways, it was about what Bridgette had expected. There were times when Rikki’s knowledge of the world seemed to weigh on her, and it was moments like that when she left the kwami alone with her thoughts.

“Have fun, you two!”

Alya’s teasing words broke through Bridgette’s trance, having once again lost focus. She rubbed at her eyes as Alya vanished through the door with Nino in tow.

Adrien turned to face her, moving carefully so as to not cause any further damage to himself. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she replied as she packed away her things. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He nodded, understanding emphasized in the way his worry seemed to melt away.

She threw her bag over her shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, but,” he glanced over his shoulder at the students who had lingered to talk to some of their friends. “Our little friend wasn’t able to get me an address. He claimed he could ‘sense’ the guardian’s location.”

Bridgette frowned and flicked one of her pigtails over her shoulder from where it had gotten caught under the strap of her bag. Now that Adrien had noticed and it seemed that no one else cared, she felt comfortable enough to resume her old style.

She held the door for him as he approached, and without many words, they headed down the stairs and hit the streets of Paris.

\---

The moment Alya heard that Marinette had planned an event with Adrien, and that she hadn’t been immediately notified about it, she knew something was up.

Call it a journalist’s intuition, call it their connection as best friends – something was off.

And she was going to get to the bottom of it.

“Nino,” she hissed, snagging the back of his shirt and dragging him to the side of the staircase.

At first, he just blinked at her. Comprehension dawned the moment she looked past him and targeted the fleeing forms of Adrien and Marinette.

“Look, Alya,” he sighed, looking mournfully at his lunch with a sinking feeling that he wouldn’t be getting a chance to eat it, “I didn’t know anything about it. Adrien didn’t say anything.”

“I don’t like this,” she mused aloud. “Marinette tells me everything about Adrien at the drop of a hat. There’s no way she would have kept something like this from me.”

Nino said nothing, which evidently was enough to prompt Alya to action.

“Come on, we’re following.”

He let out a squawk as she pulled him toward their disappearing friends and made it halfway across the room before protesting, “Alya, this is weird, even for us.”

Her brows furrowed and she snapped, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Chill, Alya. I’m just saying, they might not want you busting in on their date. Maybe they’re trying to hit it off. You don’t wanna mess with Mari’s love life, do you?”

“I’m her best friend, I’m supposed to mess with her love life.” With renewed vigor, she marched toward the exit. “Are you coming?”

With one final forlorn glance at his sandwich, Nino sighed. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

\---

“Is this it?”

A dilapidated massage parlor stood by its lonesome on the narrow street, the alleys beside it sporting cramped passageways, with little else but debris and stagnant pools of rainwater making their home there. Crumbling sidewalks with grass shooting up between the cracks had long since overcome the neatly paved pathways of some of the flashier, more touristy sections of Paris. 

Looking up at the parlor, Bridgette couldn’t help but be a bit skeptical. Fissures from where nails bit into rotting wood crawled up the sign advertising the place. Behind it, the outermost coat of paint on the building was beginning to flake off, revealing red brick beneath it.

But the door was a solid wood, and the foundations seemed sturdy, even if the shop had seen better days. Paper lanterns hung beneath an orange overhang, with words of welcome written in scrawled Chinese.

Peering out from Adrien’s shirt, Plagg voiced, “This is it. I’m sure he’s expecting you.”

Adrien blinked, a frown tugging at his lips. “He knows our identities?”

“Kid,” Plagg hesitated, “he’s the one that chose you. Guardian isn’t just a role that’s played when heroes need help. You and Ladybug, you’re pieces in a game to him.”

“Are you sure this is safe, Plagg?”

His green eyes glittered with dark humor. “Would you trust a black cat’s word?”

“That’s enough, Plagg.” Bridgette said, chiding. She reached past Adrien to press a hand to the cool metal of the doorknob. “We both know you’d never put Adrien in danger if you could help it.”

Plagg said nothing, burying himself in Adrien’s shirt again. Somehow, Adrien didn’t seem convinced.

With a tense set of his mouth, he nodded at Bridgette and the door swung open.

Inside, the building was simply decorated, with minimalistic floral designs and soft lights reflected off of paper screens. The floor was paneled with fibrous mats, and along one of the walls, a little waterfall gurgled.

The front desk, a beautifully wrought piece, had no one behind it.

Adrien had just about made up his mind, believing that Plagg had somehow tricked them, when an elderly man came doddering out from behind one of the screens.

He wore a simple Hawaiian shirt, and bore well-groomed facial hair. While his size was due in part to his hunched back, it was clear that he had never been significantly taller than neither him nor Bridgette.

If he was surprised by their presence, he didn’t show it.

“Can I help you?”

Bridgette, caught off-guard, hesitated. Adrien took her silence in stride and turned to the man with a polite smile. “We were looking for someone, but I think my friend may have led us to the wrong place.”

“Oh,” the man murmured. “What a shame. It isn’t every day that Chat Noir visits a humble old man’s shop.” He shrugged, turning back toward the screen he had entered from. “I trust you can see yourself out without causing too much trouble?”

Adrien froze. Plagg snickered from inside his jacket.

“You?” Bridgette wheeled back a step, gaping at the old man. “You’re Fu? The Great Guardian?”

He smiled, slowly, as though pleased by her deduction. “Yes, but you are not Ladybug.” He gestured to an open door in the corner of the room and a green kwami with a turtle shell on his back flew into the main parlor. “Would you two like to come in?”

\---

“Nino, can you tell me why they went to a massage parlor for lunch?”

“Maybe it’s a rich-person thing?”

“You need to talk to him about this.”

“Got it.”

\---

Bridgette and Adrien took seats around a low table while the Guardian shut the door behind them. The green kwami seemed content to remain on the outskirts of the room, but Plagg and Rikki joined their charges, nestling in their hair.

“Chat Noir and…” he raised a brow at Bridgette, who quickly moved to finish his sentence.

“Coccinelle.”

Fu hummed, considering the name. “But you are not Marinette?”

She hesitated, eyes glancing skyward for Rikki’s guidance.

“She is Marinette, but she is not your Marinette.” The kwami clarified, moving to take a seat in the center of the table. Plagg, not wanting to be outdone, joined her.

The green kwami poked his head out shyly from where he waited, just behind Fu. “Master, this is the source of the disturbance I mentioned.”

“I see,” he mused, turning his head to the side inquisitively. “And yet, there doesn’t appear to be any of Nooroo’s influence over her. May I ask your name?”

With an almost haughty air, Rikki replied, “I am the kwami of the ladybug Miraculous, Rikki.”

Fu exchanged a glance with his kwami. “Wayzz, is that true?”

The little turtle blinked slowly at Rikki, who was bristling with indignation – almost as though offended that they weren’t taking her at her word. He ventured ever closer to her, stretching out a paw and resting it on the black spot on her forehead. After taking a moment, with Rikki’s blue eyes glaring at him for the duration of his test, Wayzz nodded and moved to face Fu once more.

“She is a kwami, and she is connected to a ladybug miraculous. But there is a strange aura around her. Not an evil possession, but a presence our Tikki did not have.”

At that, Rikki faltered, some of the hardness in her expression yielding to surprise. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything.

Fu stood, then, walking over to a tray of tea cups resting alongside a small kettle. “Perhaps we should start with what’s easiest. Would anyone care to explain what happened here?”

With a half-extended arm, he passed Bridgette a cup, which she gratefully accepted. After pouring some tea into it, she braced herself to tell the story.

“Do you remember the akuma, Trou de Ver?”

Handing Adrien a teacup, Fu replied, “If I recall, Hawkmoth’s creation that night was able to manipulate the fabric of space to create a portal, correct?”

“Y-yeah.” Bridgette raised the cup to her lips, blowing on the surface of the drink. “But the portal wasn’t just a void – it connected to my world. My world, where the villain Papillion had sent out the same akuma.”

Fu paused in his serving and set the tea tray down. “An alternate dimension?” Perhaps subconsciously, he and Wayzz turned to each other. “That adds a new element to our theories.”

“Theories?” Adrien, who had been listening with rapt attention, lingered on the word.

“Indeed, Adrien. Wayzz and I have been discussing this change in Ladybugs. While we were concerned, we trusted you would notice the difference, if not immediately, soon after. We trusted that Plagg would lead you here once you could no longer fully handle the situation by yourself. We were, however, surprised to see that Marinette came with you.”

“Bridgette.”

Fu nodded, smiling softly as the girl interrupted.

“My name is Bridgette. Not Marinette.”

“I stand corrected. My apologies, Bridgette. Of course, not only was it alarming that you continued to work with our Chat Noir, without either of you coming to us, but that you also discovered his identity.”

His amusement sent heat rising to Adrien’s cheeks as he confessed, “that was mostly my fault.”

“Fault plays no part in it. You did what you must have judged to be right. By extension, however, if you are in this world, do you believe Marinette is in yours?”

She nodded, if a bit hesitant. “I don’t have a way to know for sure, but that would make sense to me.”

“Indeed. Can you tell me a bit about your powers?”

As she explained, Rikki turned to Plagg, who was glaring at her, his pupils narrowed to slits.

“What, decided to stop playing nice, Kitten?”

The scraps of fur on his tail puffed out in offense.

“You could at least be considerate of our hospitality,” he sneered. “It seems all you’ve done since you’ve come here is acted like you’re the most important kwami around. We’re equals, didn’t you know?”

Neither of the two seemed to notice when the humans in the room trailed off to focus on the kwamis’ interaction.

“We’re nothing alike. Your power is nothing compared to Dragg’s.”

“Are you sure about that?” His voice had a darkness to it that Adrien wasn’t quite sure he’d ever heard before. His kwami, while overbearing at times, had never seemed to have a nasty streak in him – even if sheer destruction highlighted his abilities. “Are you sure _your_ power even matches mine with that leach draining you dry?”

Rikki stopped in her tracks, her eyes growing wide. “What are you talking about?”

“I am the bastion of destruction and misfortune. I recognize a curse when I see one. But it isn’t _your_ curse, now is it, Bug?”

Wayzz joined the two, settling just to the side. “I see now. I didn’t notice it before, but you’re right, Plagg. The imprint is a curse, but it’s just the ghost of one.” He blinked at Rikki as though clearing his sight and focusing on something he hadn’t seen before. “It’s affecting your aura.”

“Stop that,” she seethed, drawing in on herself. Bridgette scooped up her kwami, holding her close to her chest.

“Rikki,” she gently rubbed her kwami’s head with a finger. “What’s wrong? What are they talking about?”

The anger melted from her the longer she stayed in her Chosen’s palms. Instead, hurt radiated from her.

“It wasn’t his fault, Bridgette.”

Bridgette ran a finger across the kwami’s forehead. “Whose fault, Rikki?”

She seemed to deflate a little with her sigh. “Dragg.” She turned to look down at Plagg, whose tail was subconsciously lashing back and forth. “This isn’t my curse, you’re right. It’s his.” She extended a paw toward the black kwami.

Adrien did a double-take, glancing from his kwami back to the heavy-hearted Rikki.

Wayzz turned to examine Plagg, who was staring at the Ladybug kwami, mute for once.

“Can you explain, Rikki?” Fu asked, gently. “It may help us to put some pieces together.”

With Bridgette’s smile of encouragement, Rikki lifted from her chosen’s palms and hovered.

“Dragg and I have travelled together since the beginning of time. Since then, we have faced demons and monsters – both of Miraculous origin and of human. But nothing was as dark as at the Battle of Corinth, over two thousand years ago. Your history may recount it as the rise of Roman domination in a predominantly Grecian world. But,” her words were coming easier, as though rushing out to escape. “To us, it only marked the fall of Dragg.”

Bridgette pulled her knees up to her chest, abandoning her tea on the floor.

“My ladybug was a young noblewoman who went by the name Paschalítsa. Her partner was a wise woman who had disguised herself as a man for years in order to practice medicine – a black cat that went by Tenebris. The two were unstoppable – that was, until their city was besieged.”

The bright lights and flickering candles seemed to intensify – if only for a minute as the thought of burning homes and the clanking of heavy armor drifted through her memory.

“There was a sorcerer amongst the enemy who targeted our heroes the moment they surfaced. He had drawn deep into dark energies he could never have hoped to truly possess. They had worn at his mind, making him a destructive puppet hell-bent on destroying Paschalítsa – the city’s very hope embodied.” Rikki closed her eyes as though beating back the memory. “Tenebris did the only thing she could to save her partner, and protected my Ladybug from the mortal spell he’d cast.”

The memory seeped out before them, hazy images turning to stark clarity. Though there was no reason for the others to come to such deep understanding with the story, the bonds laced through the duel-Miraculouses broke a barrier through time. The call to protect one another resounded – even across realties.

“Tenebris did what she thought was right. She was like Dragg in many ways – sometimes apt to laze around, but driven toward justice and ending wrongdoing. It was entirely her choice to make contact with the dark energy that led Dragg into disarray.”

Fu had begun to lean forward, elbows resting on the table as he watched with rapt attention. 

“Darkness isn’t necessarily bad, you know – in the same way that light isn’t always good. The two, however, neutralize each other. Had Paschalítsa been struck by the sorcerer’s magic, she very well could have lost her life in its immediate impact. But after the battle, my magic could have filtered through it and negated it. I am designed to combat the dark in the same way that Dragg can dispel light.” The silence between her sentences was only interrupted by the music of faint windchimes from outside. “But Dragg couldn’t process it like I could. Instead, the surge of negative darkness overwhelmed him, taking control of him and forcing him to become a shell of what he once was – a slave to black magic.”

She paused. “Is any of this familiar to you?”

Plagg, though the distrust in his eyes had lessened, still hesitated. Slowly, as though unwilling to admit it, he shook his head. “Paschalítsa died that day – but it wasn’t due to a sorcerer. She fought side-by-side with Tenebris until the invaders caught her off her guard. My chosen took the earrings and returned them to the Guardian, as well as her ring. That was the last I heard of them.”

“They failed?” Adrien’s voice was small. Plagg only nodded in response, worriedly watching as Adrien nervously fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth.

Wayzz tilted his head to the side. “How does this bear on the darkness attached to you, Rikki?”

The kwami sighed. “By the time we sought aide for Dragg, there was nothing we could do. It had consumed him almost entirely – merging into his dark power and making it evil.”

Fu interrupted, raising a hand from the table. “Did you not have a Guardian to heal him?”

Rikki shook her head. “While the turtle Miraculous exists in my world, the role of Guardian does not. We had to work with what I could do for him – and even that wasn’t much. We didn’t even know if it would work, but we had to do _something._ Tenebris was dying, and Dragg was quickly becoming a toxin to her.”

“Could this happen to you?” All eyes went to Adrien, who had paled dramatically.

Plagg hesitated, seriously considering the notion. “I… don’t think so, kid.”

“He’s right,” Fu shot the boy a reassuring smile. “If there were a problem with Plagg’s aura, Wayzz and I would be able to rectify it. While the black cat Miraculous is associated with destruction, the role of the turtle Miraculous is healing. We’re inclined toward aligning a kwami’s spirit, should it waiver.”

While the color had yet to return to him, Adrien seemed appeased by the answer.

“Dragg and I are one and the same, much like you and your Tikki. So, the only thing I thought to do was to use part of my power to reach out and help contain the evil in him. It worked, but a part of it rebounded on me. The powers we should be able to give, like your cataclysm and Marinette’s lucky charm, have been blocked. We’re weaker than we once were. And while I could contain the evil in Dragg, I have not been able to eliminate it entirely.” With a thin, distracted smile, she added, “But he was back. He came back.”

“If I may,” Fu rubbed at his forehead, “what other effects does this have on the both of you?”

“It’s more like how this affects our chosens. The Ladybugs are lucky – because the curse is not my own, it doesn’t affect them as much. They may experience some misfortune when untransformed, but generally speaking my power can outweigh the darkness.”

Bridgette’s eyes widened, her head snapping back to stare at her kwami. “Cat’s curse. Is that from this?”

Rikki closed her eyes, nodding grimly. “The Black Cats are plagued with terrible misfortune – and Dragg reverts to a cruder, angrier state. As well, they can’t remove their Miraculouses… unless their Ladybug kisses them.”

Bridgette glanced down into her cup of tea, avoiding Adrien’s gaze.

“It’s unfortunate, but the need for a Black Cat is undisputable. After the curse is broken, Dragg returns to his true form – but it is often too late for the Miraculous holder to forgive him for the things he’s done. It’s torment for him – to be drawn to a hero, only to be unable to guide them, and end up subjecting them to horror. Very few are able to forgive him, in the end.”

Bridgette’s teacup clanked loudly against the table as she set it down. “You knew?” The muscles in her back had tightened, a weary anger rising in her voice. “You knew about Cat’s curse the whole time and didn’t tell me?”

“It wasn’t my place, Bridgette.”

“Yes, it was!” Her irritable retort, though still loud enough that it spooked Wayzz, had lost some of the wild rage that had been hounding her for months. “You knew what I was going through. If I had known, Rikki-”

“If you had known, would you truly have done anything differently?”

She began to snarl a response, but was caught – lurching back and pausing. Because the truth was… if she had known – they may never have even considered each other as partners. She may have been stubborn enough to refuse him, without understanding the cost of what she was doing.

And if she were being honest with herself – even after all they’d gone through, she would never have wanted to turn back and erase their friendship. As false as it may have been – as much as her heart had been shattered that day, no part of her regretted the days when they fought for each other and for Paris.

Bridgette deflated, conceding the point. 

“It sounds to me,” Fu, whose gentle demeanor would lead one to believe that he’d go unheard, had a strange way of dominating the scene with only a few words, “that this problem will not be easily rectified. Had this been an issue borne of Nooroo’s power overwhelming Tikki, as we had feared, I could have realigned her spirit in a matter of days. This, however,” he mused, raising a hand to his chin, “is far more complex.”

“What are you thinking, Master?” Wayzz perched on his shoulder.

The old man turned to glance at his longtime friend. “This issue is both caused by the butterfly Miraculous, yet at the same time, is not the sole perpetrator here. Had this solely been an akuma issue, our Ladybug’s lucky charm would have fixed things and returned Marinette to us. However, it would seem that Bridgette’s world was not a creation of Hawkmoth. It’s a tangible reality – a universe just overlapping our own. Lucky charm cannot fix what is not broken.”

“But if she did do her lucky charm, why am I here while she’s there?”

Grimly, Adrien muttered, “We don’t even know that she is there. We don’t know where she is.”

Bridgette protested, petulantly. “We don’t know that she _isn’t_.”

“Well, even if she is, what good does it do her?” Frustration, more than anger, laced his tone. “If your world is so bad, then why should we even hope she’s there?”

Fu spoke up again, raising a brow. “There could be worse, Adrien. There could be a world without Miraculouses, and then where would she be?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “We can’t focus on that right now. We can’t afford to. But to answer your question, Bridgette, my best guess is that if both Ladybugs entered the portal at the same time, then her power must have reached out and found a Ladybug-sized void in the two worlds, and threw you two back in in the most efficient manner it could have. There may have been no way for the magic to have seen the true difference between you two. We don’t know. We may never know.”

Fu took her silence in stride, thinking the conversation over when Bridgette replied.

“So, if Cat hadn’t betrayed me, none of this would have happened?”

Adrien rocked back, wide-eyed. Some of Fu’s tea spilled onto the mat beneath him.

Weakly, Wayzz braved the unspoken question. “What do you mean, Bridgette?”

“Cat is the reason why I went into the portal in the first place. He shoved me in.”

“Surely you just don’t know the whole story,” Wayzz offered, a calm veneer plastered on his face. “A Black Cat in any universe can’t be wholly evil.”

Having patted the spilled tea up with the hem of his Hawaiian shirt, Fu straightened once more. “Not so, Wayzz. Any miraculous can be abused. Just think of poor Nooroo with Hawkmoth.”

Rikki jolted to attention, shaking her head vigorously back and forth. “Dragg is not under an abusive power.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” the words slipped from her with ease. “Félix was a chosen. He never desired power – and regardless of Dragg’s cruelty, I think he enjoys being a hero.”

Bridgette scoffed, but didn’t say any more on the subject.

“Whatever did happen, it isn’t important right now.” Adrien, having been through quite the emotional rollercoaster, seemed relieved to be finally getting somewhere with their problem. “And if she is in danger because of this Félix, then it’s only more important that we get Marinette back quickly.”

“You’re quite right, Adrien.” Fu smiled warmly at the boy. “There is an imbalance between the worlds that needs rectifying.” His eyes darted to Wayzz. “If the Cure alone didn’t work…”

The silent exchange they shared was heavy, tangibly hanging between them.

“They could try-”

“Master, I cannot recommend that. It’s far too drastic.”

“It would be the easiest way to reopen the portal.”

A frown tugged at the corner of Wayzz’s mouth. “And then what? Would you send one of them through to fetch Marinette? How would they communicate with us? As it stands now – it would be dangerous to leave Paris without a Ladybug for long.”

Fu’s eyes darted over to an old phonograph along the wall of the room. “Adjustments could be made.”

“Master, please. You know that using that power would be the easiest way to lose one of them. Don’t you remember?”

Adrien and Bridgette exchanged a look, baffled. Rikki and Plagg quietly watched on, rigid.

Fu’s voice was steady, though something in his expression soured. “Of course, I do. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on that mistake, Wayzz. I don’t know that caution is appropriate in this matter.”

“Perhaps not – but I truly believe that should be left as a final resort.” Wayzz met Fu’s eyes with a level stare. For a kwami that had been reluctant to voice his opinions before, something had seemed to switch in him – whether his familiarity with his chosen or the severity of the issue, Bridgette wasn’t sure. “We can study more and see if there’s a safer alternative.”

Fu sighed, a wry smile tilting his lips. “You’re right, as usual, Wayzz.” Turning to the kids, humor tinted his voice. “Don’t worry – I’m sure we’ll find something quickly. For now, just try to minimalize the damage you do to the city. It needs to stay standing while we find a solution.”

A weak smile surfaced on Adrien’s face, but Bridgette merely nodded grimly.

“Now, don’t you think it’s about time you headed back to class?”

Checking the time on his phone, Adrien jumped. “We need to go back – now.”

Setting her tea down with an air of finality, Bridgette snatched her bag and jumped up. Their respective kwamis hid as they rushed out the door, briskly thanking Fu for his time.

The old man had enough time to wave, amused, before the door swung shut behind them.

Eyeing his kwami, Fu murmured one simple word. 

“Interesting.”

\---

“I still haven’t figured out what to get the guy for Christmas,” Nino said, back against a brick wall and knees pulled up to his chest. “I’ve only got, what, a week left? At this rate I won’t find anything.”

Alya, however, didn’t reply. 

“I mean, what do you get a guy who has everything?”

“Finally!” She muttered, twisting to watch Adrien and Marinette approach their hiding spot.

Beside her, Nino straightened and rubbed at his leg, stiff from sitting for so long. “Alya, we’re going to be late getting back.”

“Just hold on a second. They’ll see us if we leave now.”

“Fine.”

Alya couldn’t help her amusement at his complaining, and nudged his arm with her elbow. She smiled down at him and he glanced away with a roll of his eyes – though he couldn’t help the grin that split across his cheeks.

Boyfriend appeased, she leaned out again from their little alley, only to reel back before either of their friends noticed her. They were far too engrossed in their conversation to notice her, though.

Adrien murmured something that Alya didn’t quite catch, but Marinette’s tense reply made her blink in surprise.

“I know you wouldn’t do that to her. You’re still with her, and not because you need something from her. That says enough.” 

“Were things really _that_ bad back there?”

Marinette paused and Adrien came to a halt beside her. Her nails dug into the fabric of her pants.

“Yes. I don’t envy her right now.”

Nino and Alya hardly breathed, praying not to be noticed by the pair.

Adrien scuffed his heel against the sidewalk, hands jammed into his pockets and eyes downcast.

“I’m just worried about her, you know? I know she’s tough, but…” he trailed off.

“But we don’t know how they’re doing. Either of them.” Marinette absently tugged at one of her pigtails.

Alya’s eyes narrowed, staring at the twin tails, both of which seemed… longer.

“Bridgette?”

“Yeah?”

Alya exchanged a glance with Nino, who shrugged.

“Tell me the truth, please. Do you really think Félix will hurt her?”

Marinette-Bridgette hesitated. Adrien’s eyes pleaded with her, desperation on his face clear.

Slowly, she replied, “I think, that if there’s anything I’ve learned in my time here – it’s that I don’t know my partner half as well as I thought I did. And I think… Marinette can handle him far better than I ever could have.” She swallowed, hard. “I think I made a mistake, Adrien. I didn’t know what Félix was going through – and I didn’t give him a chance to explain, and-”

Adrien stepped closer, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Hey, hey – it’s okay.” The two began to walk again, having forgotten their rush entirely.

Once they were finally out of earshot, Alya stumbled to her feet and turned the corner, watching them go. Nino put a hand on her arm. She pivoted to look at him, uncertainty smoldering in her hazel eyes.

“Nino,” her voice was shaking. “What were they talking about?”

His brows furrowed as he watched his friends disappear around the corner, toward the school. “I don’t know that I want to be involved in… whatever this is.”

A cold wind buffeted them. As they made their way back to the school, they huddled close, arms around each other. They were quiet, for the most part, until Alya ventured:

“Nino? What if that wasn’t Marinette?”

“What? Alya, come on. That’s your best friend – how could it not be?”

She absently tugged at the red ends of her hair.

“I don’t know.” A white puff escaped her lips with a sigh. “But I don’t like what I just heard, and I certainly don’t like that Adrien knows something about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it’s been a little while since the last chapter, hasn’t it? To assuage some of the concerns I’ve gotten: yes, I am continuing with this story. I have no plans to abandon it, because trust me, I want to see how it ends as much as you guys do c: Also, because it also popped up - if you've made it this far and are unfamiliar with what the Miraculous PV is, I'd love to point out a video you should check out on Youtube. The "Ladybug PV" was essentially the first insight the fandom got into Miraculous, and it was all done in 2D. Though it's a far cry from CGI Miraculous, it's essentially the beginnings of the show we love - featuring Félix instead of Adrien.
> 
> Moving forward: I did start up with classes and I have a bit of a heavy workload, so it will take time for updates – and I want to make sure what I put out is edited and not rushed so you guys can enjoy it more.
> 
> If you were wondering or unsure, Tenebris and Paschalítsa are not characters that have been introduced in the main series. They’re fully my inventions of how the history went down in these worlds. As far as my limited research went, Tenebris should mean dark in Latin, and Paschalítsa should mean ladybug in Greek. I’m no expert, though, so there may be errors.
> 
> That’s it for now, guys!
> 
> <3 Tournt  
> [tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com](https://tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com/)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh tw: ear piercing? it's not like gross or anything but fair warning if that bothers you.

To say that the piercers were shocked by their request was an understatement.

“Like… the cat ears or the human ears?”

Ladybug’s eyes went comically wide. Her lips pressed together firmly, fighting back a laugh that threatened to burst. Beside her, Cat’s tail lashed, and his face disappeared behind a hand. 

His felt cat ears took that moment to twitch with disgust and Ladybug lost it, howling with laughter.

She curled in on herself, one hand braced against the counter and the other pressed against her stomach. When she finally gathered herself, she squinted up at Cat’s flushed face with teary eyes.

“I don’t know. What do you think, Cat?”

He only sighed, mumbling to the man who had asked the damnable question, “the human ears, please.”

The man, whose nametag read Hugo, nodded curtly and grabbed a packet from a nearby drawer. He ushered them to a back room, and Ladybug trotted along, loudly announcing that Cat needed her to go through with it.

“He’s being a baby about it.”

“I am not.” He snapped back at her, lip curling.

She raised a brow. “You haven’t stopped complaining since I brought it up.”

She caught the hint of a smile on Hugo’s lips as his bulky frame moved to lean over a little sink in the corner. He seemed an amicable person – the hair on his head shaved off, yet a goatee revealing the salt-and-pepper of his hair. A golden wedding band wrapped around his finger, but there were no pictures in the back room to show anything of his family.

Ladybug dutifully took the seat beside the cushion Cat took, holding out a comforting hand. 

“Maman held my hand when I got my ears pierced. I’m here for you, if you need it.”

He batted her hand away and she pulled a face at him.

Hugo tore open the packet to take the sterile needle and pleasantly approached the two. “Alright – cartilage or?”

Cat shot her a desperate look, the blue in his eyes flashing with alarm. “Uh… my ear?”

Ladybug smiled, shaking her head as she answered for him. “Lobe. He’s clueless.”

“Right.” The man leaned back, glancing at both sides of Cat’s face before reaching out and dabbing a dot of dye where the piercing would go. He smudged one away, then recentered it. With a wave of his hand to the mirror, Cat obeyed and turned to look at his reflection.

“Looks even to you?”

He glanced at Ladybug in the mirror and she nodded. He turned to Hugo, and, still irritable, bobbed his head curtly.

“Right, then turn back to face me.” The piercer skirted around the side of the seat, between Cat and the mirror. He dared a glance at Ladybug before asking the long-awaited question. “So, trying out a new look?”

Cat remained mute. Ladybug shrugged.

“Well, if you think a piercing is going to make you look more intimidating to the akuma, you don’t really need it. You’re scary enough as is.”

A look of surprise flitted over Cat’s features. Surprise and… a hint of pride.

It was then, when he was most distracted, that Hugo sent the needle through his ear.

Cat hissed out a breath, wincing as a white earring was fixed deftly to him. “Ach, that hur…” he trailed off, considering as Hugo moved to his other side. “Well, I suppose it wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

“Baby,” Ladybug muttered, and was rewarded with a targeted glare.

His claws left pinpricks in the cushion beneath him and it took him a minute to release it with minimal damage. He raised a glove to the earring with a wince, but stopped at Hugo’s disapproving glare.

“Do you want to get an infection? Where have those claws even been – when was the last time you cleaned them?”

Cat’s tail shot stark upright. He swiveled his head to snap back at the man, and the second earring was put in. All irritation faded as he screwed up his face against the sudden ache.

Ladybug couldn’t help but feel a burst of admiration at the manner in which Hugo had decided to distract Cat. Toying with his vanity like that was a spark of inspiration that she carefully filed away for future use.

“Sorry about that,” he replied, gruffer this time. “But you really should avoid touching your piercings as much as possible. Especially for the first month.” He turned toward a trash can and threw out the materials in his hands.

Ladybug didn’t miss how Cat twined his fingers together to keep them from reaching up again. His ears were burning bright red, and yet – the soft glint of the earrings there wasn’t actually too bad of a look for him.

As Hugo rattled off a list of ear-care expenses – sea salt, antibacterial soap, and cotton swaps amongst them, Ladybug only half paid attention.

There was so much riding on their one sliver of hope. And if this didn’t work – if ultimate power couldn’t take her back to her world, then what possibly could?

She nearly missed Cat reaching into a pocket to dig out a handful of money. He paid the man, and was partway out the door before he realized that she wasn’t following.

Cat looked back at her, half-turned to face her with his arms folded over each other. He was just a silhouette, standing there in that doorway with soft twilight spilling lazily past him. His hair was a golden blaze, and the metallic hues of his transformation shone in the dying sun.

“You coming, Coccinelle? Or are you getting a piercing too?”

Ladybug blinked. She took a step toward that light, that hope that still lay ahead, and never looked back.

“I’m coming.”

\---

In the end, perhaps it wasn’t all that surprising that they’d ended up sneaking into Collège Françoise Dupont later that night.

As much as they had both been avoiding the place – being far too revealing and specific for the both of them, it ended up being a place of mere convenience. They needed an open space that was secured against outside eyes. Anyone could be a spy for Papillon, and if they could avoid media attention – the better.

But if Cat Noir was being honest with himself, there was something… reassuring about being at the school. He’d only gone home for what felt like a matter of minutes before leaving to meet Ladybug. He had been avoiding the place all day, electing to spend his lunchtime with Claude and Gavroche, the two taking him under their wings, so to speak. They were good people, he knew. Good people that knew how unforgivable the things his father had done were. The longer he stayed at home, the worse he felt. Only seeing his father out of the corner of his eye that morning had been enough to haunt him. He couldn’t imagine spending a second longer in that insufferable house.

Even if Ladybug hadn’t needed him, he might have left for the afternoon. Not transformed, of course. Not once he’d finally had the slimmest hint of luck in his newfound friendships. But he could have gone to a library or the park or anywhere that wasn’t the house. Not a home, never a home. Just a big, old, empty house.

Ladybug pushed the entrance behind them shut with an air of finality. Cat glanced around the empty atrium, scanning the alcoves and doorways for any sign of movement. The foyer was open air, with classrooms lining the enclosed area. A basketball court was drawn on the ground, just before the doors that led into the library and further classrooms.

He had never been here so late at night before. Above them, stars shone. A cold breeze swept over them. He didn’t feel it much, not with his kwami’s energy enveloping him the way it was. If his fingers were a bit stiff under his gloves, then it had to be due to the strange anxiety coiling through him.

What was it that Ladybug’s kwami had said? He was about to hold the very forces of life and death in his hands?

His pulse sped up, pounding in his chest.

What did he… what was he… how could that be? How was it possible for a mere mortal to wield a power like that and survive? How could one man, alone, bear such dominion over something no longer left secular? And perhaps more importantly – how could he live with himself after transcending his humanity? Even for a moment, was it worth it?

“Cat?”

He jumped, raising his eyes to meet Ladybug. She was staring openly at him, some of his own trepidation reflected in her expression. Of course, it couldn’t be easy for her to trust him with her Miraculous – no matter the reason.

“Are you okay?”

Cat’s attention slipped to his ring before darting back up to those blue eyes that he had somehow met as Félix. Her slip-up from before had revealed that much, but unfortunately… he got into near-daily arguments with many people, if he didn’t blatantly ignore them. So, as frustrating as it was, beneath that mask… beneath _Coccinelle’s_ mask, was a face he still didn’t know.

But that didn’t stop Ladybug.

She trusted him. Or at least, trusted him enough to see the job through.

And more than that – beyond her own fears, she was asking after the toll it was taking on him.

It made her profoundly _different_ than Coccinelle. Coccinelle had a mind for small details, but even in this, she wouldn’t have thought to – 

He blinked.

Maybe she would have asked him that question. Maybe what he’d thought for so long, that hurt that had guided him, maybe it was clouding otherwise sound judgement. And just because he hadn’t noticed such consideration before wasn’t indicative of Coccinelle’s fault, but perhaps his own.

Cat had never tried. He had never tried to put her before him – not truly. And as upset as he was, a part of him, no matter a sliver so small, began to think that he had been mistaken. Coccinelle may not have been perfect, but she had admittedly been better to him than he had to her. She was a partner, through and through – tested by trial and fire. He, comparatively, was not.

But he was not beyond saving.

He could do this, work through his own fear and cowardice for Ladybug – and just maybe he could make a sacrifice worthy of saving Coccinelle. But for all her faith in him, he couldn’t just do it without knowing anything about her. It would be faith poorly aligned, should she assume such trust in him. She was a stranger to him. He was a stranger to her. But maybe those odds could be shifted. 

“Ladybug,” he began, for a moment forgetting the sting in his ears. “Your civilian name. Is it different here?”

When she had said that Félix’s name was different in her world, it had gotten the wheels spinning in his mind.

She was still. Then, those blue eyes, shining behind a red and black mask, came to life. “It is.”

“If it isn’t too much – can I ask you what your real name is?”

To her credit, she didn’t balk at the question. A frown kissed her lips. “Why?”

Why, indeed. Not for a matter of his own curiosity, of course. He was interested, but that wasn’t entirely why he had voiced the question. No, there was more to it.

“Because,”  


 _You’re alone in a world you hardly understand. You came here, expecting me to help you, and all I did was treat you horrendously. But you still did everything you could to bridge the gap. It’s high time I did the same._ He thought, but didn’t voice the words aloud. Instead, he pointedly looked away and settled for, 

“I owe you. And if hearing your name will come as a comfort to you, if it will make you feel… better, then I should give you that much. I don’t want you to think that you’re forgotten. You aren’t the girl whose life you’re living, and I think that even if we only know each other for a few minutes more – I should do _something_ for you.”

 _Because if a Ladybug like you exists – then I have to believe there’s a chance for Coccinelle. That whatever we had can be…_ He hardly dared to think the last word. _Salvaged._

“Marinette,” she supplied, a heaviness seeming to settle on her as she said it. Her shoulders caved inward. “My name was… is Marinette. I – thank you.”

“Well, Marinette. Are you ready to go home?”

She nodded. 

Cat steeled his resolve. 

He walked toward the silent library, facing strictly ahead. She skirted directly behind him as he held his gaze, not allowing himself to make any motion toward where she stood.

After a moment of reflective silence, she whispered into the din of night.

“Tikki, spots off.”

Pink light washed against the walls.

Cat reached his hands up to his ears, tenderly tugging on the new piercings. Hugo’s warnings sounded in his ears. “You know, Marinette? If these get infected, I’m gonna sue.”

Tears sprang to his eyes as redness flared, pain screaming in his ears.

“That doesn’t seem very fair to their business,” Marinette replied, voice low. It was a different sort of sound than when the mask and the magic morphed her into Ladybug, and a tickle of familiarity taunted him to turn around.

He closed his eyes, ignoring the little voice.

To clarify, he added, “I’m suing you.”

The exasperated huff she let out drove a smile on his face, and he blinked up at the familiar kwami, floating before him with a sternness in her eyes and her Miraculous in her arms.

“Be careful with this power, Cat Noir. Balance will always come out. If you abuse it –”

“I won’t.”

She glared at him and he shut his mouth.

“If you abuse it, there will be consequences. So, when you transform, I want you to stay focused. Don’t delve into power you aren’t equipped to handle. Saying ‘wings rise’ will trigger the ability for you to use Papillon’s powers. Search out Marinette. Let her be your Champion and give her the same powers Trou de Ver had.”

He cupped his hands before him, his own earrings dropping uselessly to the ground. He offered her a solemn nod, which seemed to convince her to relinquish the jewelry she held so dearly.

“You have good in you, Cat Noir. Bad, too. Once you’re… well, just don’t let either side grow stronger. Balance is not good or evil – it is the place in between. It’s important that you keep that in mind.”

With that, she placed the earrings in his palms and retreated back a few feet, looking back at where Marinette must have stood.

He took a breath to steady himself before reaching up to his ears with shaking hands. He pulled the backs of the earrings off the post, and lined the first one up as best as he could. Gingerly, he touched the jewelry to his ear.

A pulsing wave of purple exploded into existence. The earring flew from his grip and he was knocked back, across the room. Sparks flew and electricity split between him and the foreign Miraculous. The area beneath his ring burned, sending streaks of violet flashing past his eyelids and heat crackling down his arm. 

Tikki dove for the earrings and Marinette let out a gasp as Cat was repelled against the force that had emanated from the earring – bursting into him and taking the breath from his lungs.

It was only a miserable fraction of the power that lay dormant, waiting to be unleashed.

And still – it nearly brought him to ruin.

He hit the ground, hard. His head crashed against the ground, and with bleary sight, he twisted to glance at where the two, dark earrings had rolled together, deceptively peaceful. For but a moment, he thought he could see a violet figure rising from them, hazy – like fog spilling over splintered glass.

Then, Tikki scooped up the earrings, Marinette called out her transformation cue, her Miraculous cure was performed, and the fractured images before him aligned.

He felt positively sick.

“Cat!” Ladybug rushed over to him, flipping him over. “Are you alright – are you-”

Cat rubbed his head, but the pain streaking through him faded with each passing second. Still, he was shaking too hard to stand. “I’m alright, I think. What happened? It didn’t…” awareness filtered through him slowly. “It didn’t work. Our Miraculouses, they weren’t compatible, were they?”

She looked away, sucking at her teeth and avoiding a direct answer.

Panic lit into him, his insides twisting with guilt. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t – if I wasn’t,” he choked on the words.

Ladybug put a hand on his shoulder, tugging him close to her. “This is not because of you. It’s not even your curse’s fault. You did nothing wrong.”

He stiffened, wrenching himself away from her. “How can you say that?”

“We knew this was a risk.” Her tone was level, commanding. “We knew there was a chance this wouldn’t work.”

“All because of my damnable Miraculous!” He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring her noise of protest. He swayed, nearly falling back to the ground. That energy – whatever it had been, had drained the strength from him. Cat closed his eyes to gather himself, but it only made him tumble back down.

Wordlessly, Ladybug tucked an arm around him to support him.

It just… wasn’t fair. He was trying. He had put effort in to help someone beyond himself, and still his miserable luck got in the way. The glare he shot at his ring, at his kwami, burned brighter. The magic, the strength – none of it was useful and none of it was reliable.

And yet – 

A stray hand reached up to his now unpierced ears.

Ladybug’s powers were.

And so were Papillon’s.

They needed a portal. Only Papillon could make it.

She must have sense the change in his demeanor, because Ladybug was frowning at him and already shaking her head. “Cat?”

“What if we gave Papillon what he wants?”

Ladybug jolted back. Her arm left him, but he hardly noticed. Hunched over his ring with a reverent expression, he continued.

“If we ‘gave’ him my ring, if we tried to bargain with him–”

“Cat, no.”

He turned to her, and for a moment, a violent thread from the blast ignited within him. “He’s the only one who can open the portal, Ladybug!”

She shook her head and stood her ground. Her fists curled together, almost as though she were willing to fight him over it. “We can’t trust him!”

“If we can make it to the other side, we’d be safe!”

“We can’t!”

“Why not?” He snapped back, tail lashing.

Some of the heat left Ladybug’s eyes, but her resolute frown stayed locked in place. “If we use evil to do good, where does that leave us? We can’t take a risk like that. We can’t put our Miraculouses out like that.”

“Your kwami said it herself,” he replied, softer this time. “Balance isn’t good or evil. It’s what’s in between.

“That doesn’t give us the right to make our own definition of balance.”

A part of him recognized he was being unreasonable, and yet – he couldn’t give in. “Well, why not? Ladybug, we have the powers of destruction and creation. We can do whatever we want. We can beat Papillon at his own game.”

“Just because we have power doesn’t give us free reign to use it. I thought your curse would have taught you that much!”

Cat flinched at that. The façade around him fell, and he recognized the strange emotion on Ladybug’s face.

He was surprised he hadn’t realized it sooner. He’d seen enough of it on Coccinelle’s face before she left. Before he had made her leave. And really, he had been driving her away far before pushing her through that portal what felt like so long ago.

Disappointment. 

Disappointment, and distrust.

His tail fell to the ground, heart sinking. He’d done it again – driven away the only person that could help him.

But even as he opened his mouth to apologize, to beg her not to go – to not abandon him, she surprised him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone that far.” She was staring down at her feet, arms crossed and a guilty expression splitting her features. “That wasn’t fair of me. I just… I’m afraid something will happen that I can’t fix with my cure.”

“You don’t -”

“Let me finish, Cat.” She swallowed, gaze lifting above them to the stars. “I forget that you aren’t used to being able to fix everything that happens. Your city is in shambles. You understand the risk far better than I do. So, I’m sorry. I should have given you a chance to explain.”

His heart flipped, bursting in an uneven pulse. “I,” the words stuck in his throat. This openness, this frank declaration of a reconciliation carved something strange into him. A burden unbidden, and yet one that was worth the weight. “I apologize. That wasn’t right of me, either.”

The uncertainty flooding from her became far more neutral. She reached out a hand. “We’ll forgive each other, and we’ll talk this through.” She met his eyes steadily. “That’s what partners do, right?”

He hesitated. 

Cat wasn’t alone. He had to expect trust in her if she was to trust in him. 

He reached out a hand, clasping hers with his. “Right.”

\---

When Cat returned to the mansion later in the evening, a multitude of thoughts swirled in his mind. 

In vain, he desperately tried to pin down one idea, only to be attacked with a further barrage of questions. What they were planning… well, they had a fool’s hope – if that. 

The distractions reigned, spilling over and leaving him less alert than he should have been. He only managed to come to a halt based on a blind reaction from his subconscious.

Cat blinked. Something had left him uneasy. Something he couldn’t…

There.

Light poured from the wide windows of his room, illuminating the courtyard below.

He dropped low on the neighboring rooftop, all of his senses straining as he scanned the view before him for any other irregularities.

Nothing. Everything else was as it should be.

But that light? He knew it had been off when he’d left. There was no doubt in his mind about it.

Cat slipped back over the edge of the rooftop, digging his claws into the building. He slowly lowered himself down to the ground. Pinpricks from his claws were left in the greying mortar, but that was the least of his concerns.

His heart hammered in his chest as he detransformed and pocketed a surly Dragg. The kwami never liked being transformed for so long, and this was no exception. But for now…

“Stay quiet,” he hissed under his breath and peeked around the corner to see if anyone was paying attention to his little alcove. Moving smoothly, he whipped around the corner and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, face downcast so as to not draw attention to himself.

Anyone else on the streets at this time of night walked right past him, not bothering to watch where they were going or to interrupt his earnest, yet relaxed gait. He forced himself to take a breath. He couldn’t let the fear show. He would be under constant scrutiny from the moment he entered the property. If anything were amiss, anything at all – it could mean the end of the freedom that was already so loosely granted.

The gate approached. He quickly input the passcode to separate the bars and slipped through. He made sure they locked behind him, and knowing that every camera in the building was probably trained on him, wiped away any apprehension on his face.

Instead, he calmly tightened his tie and stepped through the front door.

Gervais Agreste was standing at the entrance of his office, hands folded behind him. Félix paid him no mind as he approached the stairs, reaching for the railing.

“And where,” he drawled, “were you at this time of night?”

Félix blinked and half-turned to his father. “I went for a walk. I felt like getting some fresh air.”

“Oh, really? Without a coat?” The words were said as more of a statement than a question, his disbelief expressing itself firmly. “I take it the open window wasn’t enough?”

Félix froze. His father couldn’t have… That was impossible. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. 

Dragg twitched beneath his vest, ears perking to attention. He pressed against Félix’s chest, going stock-still.

With all the strength he had, Félix managed a shrug. He pivoted away from his father and took a step up the stairs. “That doesn’t sound so absurd to me.” After a second, he added, “I don’t know why you’d care. It’s not like I have an image to uphold any longer.”

The distraction took hold. A new edge lined the elder Agreste’s tone. “About that.”

Félix’s brow furrowed as he came to the upper landing of the house. He glanced down at Gervais, who was approaching the bottom of the stairs. “Have you changed your mind, father?”

“No.”

A wave of relief he didn’t expect to feel washed over him.

“But that does not mean your role in this family has changed any.”

 _“Family?”_

Continuing, Gervais said, “I need the Agreste name to remain relevant for my upcoming line. However, I can’t have the press hounding me for news on why you no longer participate within the company while I’m working on the new collection.”

“What do you need from me, then?” He dared ask.

“This year’s fashion show is going to include some of my riskiest pieces yet. I need publicity from you. Good publicity – not a media scandal. The Mayor is going to be hosting a Christmas Gala on Christmas Eve, some sort of charity stunt to swing votes in his favor. You’ll be attending.”

“Attending?”

“With a guest.”

Félix frowned. Reluctantly, he repeated, “A guest?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t care who it is. I just need you to be accompanied since I can’t trust you on your own.” Gervais was staring at the wedding band around his finger. Pointedly, he removed it and pocketed it. “I want the press to think you’re moving forward, rather than that you are a failure to me. Understood?”

Félix’s head bobbed just slightly.

“She’ll be wearing the first piece of our new collection. It will need to be tailored, so Nathaniel will need the details in the next three days.” Gervais watched as his son hesitated. “Is there a problem?”

“No, sir.” Came Félix’s prompt answer. “I’m just not sure… who to ask.”

A wry smile touched his father’s lips as he sneered, “Isn’t that what your precious school is for, son? Don’t disappoint me.”

Gervais disappeared through his office door, gently closing it behind him as Félix cast his eyes down to the ring wrapped around his finger. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he wrapped his hand around his fist, shielding his Miraculous from sight.

\---

It was raining again.

Another grey, numbing rain that washed out the glitz and glamour of the city.

Félix sighed from where he stood at the top of the stairs, staring out at the streets lined with floodwater. Having been so distracted by his father’s latest inane request, he hadn’t thought to check the forecast earlier that morning. Normally he’d have jumped at the ability to walk home, what with it being his driver’s day off, but in this weather?

He stalled under the cover of the school front. 

The whole day had been a wash. He hadn’t exactly had any success on the whole redeem-the-image-your-father-destroyed front. Never mind his apprehension about asking someone – he didn’t even know who to ask. And who wouldn’t be offended by it.

He tugged his reefer coat higher on his shoulders, the damp wool beginning to soak through to the shirt underneath. 

Maybe if he caught a cold, he wouldn’t have to go.

Félix entertained the thought for a mere moment before shaking his head and shoving his hands into his pockets. That would never work. Never in his lifetime, at least.

A coldness set in where the metal band looped around his finger.

He could almost hear Dragg berating him for letting them both get wet. Shrugging his shoulders up toward his neck, he took a step forward into the rain.

“Hey, Félix?”

He stopped, turning to wonder at the hesitant voice.

Bridgette blinked at him, a rose-colored scarf tied around her neck and an unbuttoned black pea coat tossed over her shoulders. She wore a white sweater tucked into a black skirt, and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Félix tensed, eyes hardening.

Bridgette took a step backwards, raising a hand as though to soothe him. “I guess not – sorry for asking.”

She spared him a sideways glance before taking another step back.

_No._

_That wasn’t what he-_

“Wait!”

His cry, far louder than he had expected it to be, reverberated across the clearing. Any students who still lingered sent a look their way before resuming their treks home.

Bridgette was watching him, an arm across her bag defensively.

“I didn’t,” he stumbled over the words, “I didn’t mean to…” He rolled his eyes. “Hell, I was just surprised, Bridgette. We just…”

“Just?”

He finished weakly. “Just haven’t really been talking lately.”

His uncertainty was reflected in her. She shuffled her feet, no longer meeting his eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

Rain pelted the ground, shimmering and shining in the half-light. Everything was grey. Everything except him – and everything except her.

And for once, there was balance in the rain that slid down the side of the building and pooled at his feet.

Her voice was hardly higher than the sound of the storm. “I haven’t been… fair to you. I – a friend said something to me and, well, I’ve been wrong. You’re allowed to have a different opinion than me. I’ve been a jerk to you for nothing.”

Félix crossed his arms. But rather than indifference rising to reply, he surprised himself by saying freely and honestly, “I haven’t exactly done anything to merit an apology.”

“I don’t think remorse is something that has to be earned.” It nearly sounded as though there were an edge, waiting to reveal itself in her tone. But for all of the conflict that wracked through her – she held firm. “I’m sorry. Just because I can be.”

And with that, she stretched out an arm, her umbrella in her hand and feeble friendship in her heart.

Bridgette looked small, and young, and somehow like someone else entirely.

The rain struck her umbrella. Unwavering, she continued to hold it out to him.

He didn’t take his eyes off the handle. “You know what, Bridgette?”

“What?”

His lips turned in a half-smile – just slight enough and strong enough to convey fondness in his admission. “You’ve seemed so different lately.”

She returned the beginnings of a grin in kind. “So have you.”

They stood there, water sluicing between them and a dark umbrella beginning to tilt downwards. Her grip on it was tenuous; her fingers wrapped loosely around the base. There was a pregnant pause in which his eyes met hers and the hand that stretched out held nothing more than an offer of peace, of acceptance, of – dare he say it – friendship. 

But he didn’t move to take the umbrella.

And before his eyes, he lay witness to something crucial breaking.

The light, once so pure, spearing through his darkness, was fading from her eyes. And behind it, her secrets poured onto the dusty concrete.

“I had a friend. Greater than I could ever have imagined.” She choked out the words, but never broke eye contact. “He helped me. He did this for me once. I owe him.”

Félix stayed perfectly still, even as her words became more clipped and fragmented.

She was afraid of something. And for a girl who believed in the righteousness of a wayward hero – if something was scaring her, he should have been running.

“Please.” She swallowed, hard. _“Take this.”_

“Why?”

“Because it’ll be like I’ve repaid him for his kindness. Helping you makes up for it.”

He reached out, hand shaking. But instead of taking the umbrella, he pressed it into her hand more firmly. “Do it for him, Bridgette. Not me.”

Félix’s hand began to slip away from hers.

The response that stilled him was slow and gentle – resigned, perhaps.

She blinked up at him, rain catching on her eyelashes. “He’s gone. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.”

It wasn’t fear that he had sensed welling up in her. It was a bitter loneliness. Her heart cried out – not out of a deep malice, but of a fierce divide. She was alone, and for all the friends she surrounded herself with, something had left her solitary.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The edge came back. “Just _take_ it.”

He had been wrong. So wrong. This rain was no curse. It was cleansing. And for a moment – their souls were not the broken heaps of glass he’d so desperately avoided being cut by. Instead, the two of them, in that moment, were unmade and reforged in one another’s image. They were not glass – they were mirrors. Perfect mirrors.

All that despair, that loneliness, that rage he knew all so well was smoldering in her eyes.

And if that were true… then maybe her light, her happiness, her warmth could shine from his.

“Félix?”

He’d been staring.

“Yes, Bridgette?”

She pushed the umbrella into his open palm.

“Let’s start over. Together.”

Bridgette wasn’t alone. Perhaps she never had been. Not entirely. Not with him.

So, Félix Agreste watched her as he accepted the umbrella. 

He watched as the anguish drifted from her to be left with steely resolve. He watched as her smile, cunning and sharp - like nothing as he had ever seen before on her – became intensely familiar.

He watched as she stepped forward and into the storm without hesitation.

He watched as the scattered images connected.

And he watched, unblinking, as Bridgette Dupain-Cheng became Ladybug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Here's hoping 2018 will be productive!
> 
> But also: I first published BMBH almost exactly a year ago. It's kinda mindblowing to think that - so I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed, but especially those of you who have been here from the start. I know I update infrequently, but you guys are always so good about it. Thank you for your continued support! c:
> 
> If any of you are wondering how long I plan on making this fic, I've sketched out a pretty detailed list of chapters to come and key plot points to hit. I've currently drafted through to chapter 17 and I know how I plan on resolving things, I just don't quite know how that's going to be spaced out yet. It could be a few chapters after that point, or it could be many chapters after that point. I can promise you that I've got loads of surprises and turns ahead - and I truly believe it'll be worth the wait.
> 
> As always, lots of love!  
> \- Tournt <3  
> [My tumblr!](https://tournee-de-la-ladybug.tumblr.com/)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh it's finally done. I swear this was the chapter that didn't want to end. It's like almost 9,000 words in itself hoo boy.
> 
> Anywho, just bc I want to make sure you guys are all comfortable and because it's too minor to tag, there is the mention of a past suicide in the end of this chapter. So yeah. Just a head's up.

The tension hadn’t left Coccinelle’s shoulders.

Chat watched her carefully as she leaned over the edge of the building, highlighted against the bright blue sky. The scowl on her face and the growing frustration in the set of her features was largely unchanged. One hand wrapped around a thin pipe behind her as she crouched, and the other curled into a fist at her side.

He blinked, curious.

Bridgette had seemed to be fine after the visit to Master Fu’s, and what little he’d seen of her over the weekend had been uneventful. Even in class that morning, the girl had mostly kept her mouth shut except to extend basic pleasantries to Alya and Nino. At lunch she had even gotten wrapped up in a conversation with Max and Nathaniel about the character design changes in the Mecha Strike expansion pack that had been revealed the previous night.

All in all – Bridgette had acted completely normal. Calm, and approachable, even. He’d spoken to her a few times as Adrien, but when he had needed to update her on something from Master Fu or had a new question regarding her Miraculous, he had resorted to texting her or even meeting her on her balcony. Most of their conversations had been brief – if not a bit awkward. Without the hustle of action and the teamwork they’d needed to establish for fighting akuma, things were a bit… off between them. Strained, perhaps, but not in a manner that was insurmountable.

He had wanted to ask her how she had gotten her Miraculous without an existing Guardian the next time he saw her, but by the time he’d finally gotten a chance, the city-wide akuma alert had gone off and she had dashed away before he could catch her. And once they had met up as superheroes, she had been too keyed up to truly focus on anything except tracking down the villain-of-the-day.

So, Chat had simply let it slide – instead agreeing to focus on the monstrosity tearing down the Champs-Elysee.

Minimizer had had a rather unfortunate run-in with Chloe prior to being akumatized. Chat hadn’t gotten all of the details, but he had listened to Chloe’s whining that morning about some kid that had bumped into her on the sidewalk. Naturally, coming into contact with a child was grounds enough to be convinced her outfit had been tainted, and she had gone home to change. Not that the akuma knew that – and as a result, the majority of his classmates had shrunk to the size of their textbooks. Small enough to be burdensome, but large enough that stepping on them was avoidable.

Most of them had had the good sense to get out of the way. Alya, naturally, had been a nuisance to remove from the classroom, insisting on taking the phone that was now half her height with her. Chat had decided to let that one slide and had left her as she began arguing the practicality of using the combined strengths of Kim and Nino to carry it outside. 

Remarkably, Alix had been the only one quick enough and flexible enough to dive for cover while the rest of the class had been shrunk. He waved a hand in Alya’s direction as he had passed, and she nodded – if a bit hesitant to become Alya’s pack horse for the time being. Chat held his tongue, but he secretly thought she had been gloating over her sudden height when he had rushed by.

It had taken Chat a little while to find Coccinelle up on that rooftop. Clearing the area of civilians was always Ladybug’s first move. Whether it was simply calling out a warning or physically removing them from the scene, the two of them had it listed as an unofficial code of sorts. He had forgotten, in the chaos, that Coccinelle saw things differently.

And for some reason, she was seeing this particular akuma differently.

“Coccinelle?” He called, softly, to gain her attention without startling her.

She whipped her head over her shoulder, pigtails flying. He should have been shocked by the strength of the emotion boiling over, flooding her features with anguish, but somehow it seemed appropriate. Coccinelle wore her heart on her sleeve. Every bit as filled with love as Ladybug was – and yet, used to making decisions that deeply wounded her.

He didn’t even have to prompt the unspoken question.

“This is a child.”

Coccinelle said it with such softness, such sadness, that he wouldn’t have been able to believe it was her speaking if he hadn’t seen her form the words.

He crossed his arms, suddenly no longer wanting to meet her eyes. “It happens sometimes. They have some pretty good support groups for the kids – teaching them how to talk about their problems and how they feel afterwards.”

Chat got the feeling Coccinelle wasn’t listening.

She had returned her attention to the figure with sandy blonde curls and a green overcoat drawn over his shoulders. As far as akuma went, this one didn’t seem quite as dramatic in coloration. In fact, if it weren’t for the crown nestled in his hair or the signature scarf wrapped around his neck, Chat wasn’t sure he’d have understood the design at all.

The boy was the Little Prince.

A storybook hero. One who had found that the world, the universe, was much bigger than he’d ever imagined.

“Just a kid,” she whispered, ending on a near-whimper.

Chat gently put a hand on her shoulder, crouching beside her. Though the magic made the child look almost fragile, if he had to put a number on it, he was probably just shy of teenage years. “He’ll be alright, Coccinelle. We’ll fix things, we’ll get Chloe to apologize, we’ll –”

She closed her eyes and carefully shook his hand off. “That’s not the point,” she pressed without opening her eyes. “What sort of monster would make a child his warrior, his champion?”

A strange shiver slid down his spine. “We were hardly older than him when we first started. I was thirteen.” He deftly unhooked his baton from his belt, raising it in preparation to leap down from the rooftop. “Master Fu chose us,” he mumbled under his breath, an eerie picture beginning to come together. “How different does that make him from Hawkmoth?”

Coccinelle’s brows rose, but she only hummed in agreement. He had meant to reassure her in some way, but instead had involuntarily built those walls back up. “Can we trust him?”

Chat gazed blindly ahead, stricken. “I-I don’t know.”

“He gave you and Ladybug unlimited power. If I were you, I’d want to know why. And if there are any costs to that gift.” She scooped her yo-yo from her side, biting at her lip. “Cat and I learned what our price to pay was. You should make sure there isn’t something you’re missing.”

“Plagg trusts him.”

She crossed her arms. Firmly, yet not unkindly, she replied, “Maybe Plagg has his own motives.”

Her distrust was infectious. Burrowing into him and casting doubt, it skewed his perception of the elderly man who had once seemed so benevolent. But at the implication that his kwami would mislead him – that _Plagg_ would keep a dangerous secret from him – he paused.

Plagg was a lot of things. Grouchy, at times. Greedy, at others. But he was also distant when he thought Adrien was distracted, and oftentimes silent as the grave. Plagg was not a truly callous creature, though one might assume that on a first impression. And regardless of Coccinelle’s suspicions, he just couldn’t see it. 

She turned to look back at him, then, with a slight smile on her lips. “I really hope, for your sake, that things are as good as they seem to be. And as for him?” She gestured to the akuma. “I’ll get over it. Now, what do you say we take care of this the Ladybug-and-Chat way?”

Swallowing back the vile thread of unease that snaked through him, he copied her expression and playfully replied, “I think I’d rather try the Coccinelle-and-Chat way.” He bowed, extending an arm toward the akuma. “After you, Ribbons.”

\---

If there was one thing the average passerby knew about Alya Césaire, creator and amateur head journalist of the Ladyblog, it was that she would do anything, take any risk, face any danger, just to catch a moment of her idols in action.

And if you asked one of the heroes about it, they would undoubtedly say, as they slung the reporter over their shoulder to get her out of harm’s way, that such an idea was foolish. That no matter what manner of footage Alya got, the risk was never worth it.

But if you asked Alya, it was never a matter of rashness. It was never even a matter of pure idolatry.

It was bravery. Unsung and unabashed – each time she launched herself into danger, prioritizing reporting the scene over her own safety.

That’s all it was.

Playing the game and choosing her stakes.

When she avoided near-misses from the danger-of-the-day, ducking low and breaking into sprints at irregular intervals – she knew it was all worth it. If some scrap of her footage could help in the fight against Hawkmoth, she’d take that. Even after hours of research and collecting data, if the slimmest frame she caught could be what led to finally taking down their elusive villain, then Hell if she wouldn’t do her best to save Paris alongside her heroes.

But today was unlike those ordinary days.

Alya would not be the one to capture the footage of Ladybug knocking the akuma aside with a deft kick as Chat’s claws caught in the fabric of his scarf. She would not be the one whose voice flooded the recording with a gasp as the akuma was sent spinning away, the scarf unravelling and tearing in the same moment. She would not see the way the victim’s eyes flooded with tears, and how Ladybug hesitated before following Chat’s lead to console the little boy.

She wouldn’t see, after the carnage was over, the way Ladybug inexplicably stiffened when the boy threw his arms around her. Nor the way the girl absolutely _melted_ into the embrace – her eyes welling with tears.

No.

Alya, for once, was running the other way. 

To be a journalist, to be a _hero_ was to know what the right choices were and when to take them. And Alya? Alya’s priority was and always had been her best friend.

Alya flew down the sidewalk, her hair bouncing and tangling behind her and the grip on her phone tenuous. The moment the akuma had been defeated, she’d beaten a hasty retreat from where Alix had corralled her and a few of their more adventurous classmates. She was certain her teachers would excuse her absence, as they were accustomed to her lingering around the scene to get an added word from Ladybug or a playful jibe from Chat. They didn’t have to know where she was _actually_ going. She just hoped someone else had managed to squeeze some information out of the two in her stead.

The ache in her arms from the transition to her normal height had mostly burned away by the time she stopped, panting in front of the building she had watched Adrien and ‘Bridgette’ leave the week before.

It was a largely unassuming building – the kind that you could pass by all your life without ever really noticing it was there. Just the sort of thing that made sense in the background of the hustle of everyday life, and if it vanished, you might have the sort of sinking feeling that comes when something just isn’t quite _right_.

Alya ran a hand through her brown locks, neatly flipping them over her shoulder. After a few taps on her phone, she pulled up a rear-facing camera and tucked the device in her shirt pocket. With a steadying breath, she reached out and gently twisted the doorknob.

Tinny music slid out and into the cool midday air as she gathered herself, standing before the lion’s den. It wasn’t unlike her to face the unknown, but normally she had backup in some form – whether or not Ladybug and Chat would agree with that definition.

Alya shook her head. Now was not the time to doubt. Marinette needed her – for what purpose yet, she was unsure. But if there were any clues to be found here…

She stepped onto the thin carpeting.

She had expected danger to lash out at her the moment the door swung shut. Or at least, she had hoped something would happen, something that could kickstart her search. But by all rights, the place was downright calming. She could hardly imagine that anything could be amiss – not with those soft lights and the gentle gurgle of a water display pooling in the background.

A cursory glance around revealed nothing.

She crossed her arms, then turned back the other way, jumping at the sight of a person before her.

An elderly man had appeared behind the counter, shuffling toward a dark, aged register. The smile on his face spoke volumes, but there was a keenness in his eyes that was almost unnerving. “Good afternoon. Are you here to make an appointment?”

She rocked on her heels, catching her shock and dispelling it just as fast. “Not exactly, sir.”

“Oh?”

“I guess I just had some questions. You see, my mother’s been complaining of a… back problem lately.” She smiled at him, the lie slipping through her teeth. “I was hoping you could tell me a little more about the methods used here. Some friends of mine have –” She dropped off sharply. If she asked any questions about Adrien and Marinette, er, Bridgette, the man might be reluctant to give her anything. “They told me chiropractory would make a world of difference for her.”

“Smart friends. Where is the pain located?”

“Her upper back. Closer to her shoulder blade.”

The man hummed, contemplating. After a moment, he turned around and began shuffling toward a door made from a dark wood. A frown tugged at her lips and she beat him to it, pulling it open as he approached.

“Much obliged.” Again, a thin smile formed on his face – pleasant enough, yet somehow superficial. He waved a hand, beckoning her to follow him in. Alya hesitated in the doorway for only a moment, taking care to consider the risk before squaring her shoulders and stepping into the side room.

Though it was small, the washed-out walls and the light pouring in from a set of glass doors made the area feel homey. Candles lined the countertops, and an old phonograph rested against a wall. A few books lay scattered on the floor, filled with strange markings she didn’t understand.

“Arabic.”

She startled, innocuously shifting her phone away from the texts.

The old man had settled down on a rug in the center of the room, reaching for a pot. “I was doing some research when you came in. Many of my books are in other languages, so I can imagine you must have been curious.”

Alya blinked at him. “Uh, yeah.” At his gesture she took the seat across from him and accepted the cup of tea, though she didn’t drink it. “What sort of research?”

Again, he hummed, making her wonder if his pause had something to do with the third cup on the table, filled near-to-the-brim with steaming tea. She narrowed her eyes, flicking them across the room in a quick scan. Someone else was there. Someone else, who had planned to be there longer, judging by the untouched drink. 

Before he could notice her staring at the cup, she glanced back toward the phonograph – its golden glint sticking out amongst the pale walls.

Matter-of-factly, he replied, “I’m trying to set something right, and was hoping to find some advice. Much like you, I suppose.”

She forced down the prickle of unease that wound down her spine. “W-well, yeah. I mean, my mom…” she trailed off weakly. It was her back, wasn’t it? That was what she had said the first time, right?

He didn’t seem to notice her hesitation. Instead, he just sipped at his tea. “My name is Fu.”

“Alya.”

“I believe I recognize you. The Ladyblog girl, right?”

Her brows rose. “You know my blog?”

“Of course,” he chuckled. “You do invaluable work for Ladybug and Chat Noir.” He set his cup down. “Now, about your mother. How long has the issue been going on?”

That was the question, now wasn’t it? Just how long had her best friend been acting so strangely? In reality, she hadn’t noticed much – just what had happened a few days ago. But now that she was thinking about it, perhaps this had been long in the making.

_“The Ladyblog girl, right?”_

That’s right.

It had all started with them.

When Marinette had decided Chat Noir was public enemy number one.

She mentally recorded the clue, then answered, “About three weeks ago.”

“Was she caught in an akuma attack? I’ve had numerous complaints since Ladybug’s cure stopped working.”

Alya shook her head thoughtfully. “No, it was definitely before Stage Fright.” The theatrical akuma had been the first whose attacks had remained, scarring Paris and causing damage. In fact, she mused, Marinette had started acting strangely within that strange break between akuma. She had initially chalked up Hawkmoth’s disappearance to holiday busyness. After all, even supervillains probably had families to entertain and shopping to do.

Still, a connection made was a connection worth following. Maybe there was more than met the eye to that.

An akuma, hiding amongst them, perhaps?

Close to the Ladyblogger, able to access all the theories that went unpublished?

Marinette could have been the perfect spy.

But what emotion could he have exploited from her? How could he have made her agree to it? She was always so levelheaded…

She shook her head as Fu droned on with speculations regarding her mother’s back. It was worth following up on, anyways. Her jaw shifted. The lead hadn’t exactly been what she was hoping to find, but it would seem that there wasn’t anything else of any importance here. Just an old massage parlor run by an old man.

A streak of green caught the corner of her eye.

At first, she passed it off as nothing. Just a trick of the light – the glare of someone’s passing headlights. But when she finally met Fu’s eyes again, he was looking at something just over her shoulder – and a whisper sounded from behind her, sounding vaguely like the word ‘master’.

She was just starting to shift to follow his gaze when his voice grew abruptly louder.

“Make sure it isn’t a kidney problem!”

Alya whipped back to him, brows furrowing. “Pardon?”

Fu leaned forward earnestly. “If it’s your mother’s lower back, she should make sure it isn’t kidney related. Sometimes it’s hard to estimate where pain is coming from. Tell her to see a doctor before coming to me.”

 _Lower back?_ Had she said that? Wasn’t it her shoulder?

But even the old man seemed caught off-guard, a strange expression on his face.

Something was behind her.

Some _one_ was behind her.

And she wasn’t about to wait to find out who.

Without warning, Alya whipped around and pushed herself off the ground, rising to a position she had watched Ladybug emulate time and time again. In her mind’s eye, she watched as her fist curled, scaling over in patches of red spandex. She straightened, her eyes icy and regal – poised to combat the evil before her.

But rather than some hulking figure, rather than an akuma or a villain, all she saw was-

“Is that a turtle?”

Something in her mind disconnected. The longer she looked at the creature, the more she began to believe that it was anything but. Yet, with those flippers and that soft shell – she couldn’t possibly imagine what else it could be.

It teetered on the edge of the counter, barely keeping its absurdly large head off the ground as it crawled ever closer to the edge.

Alya lunged forward to catch it before it could fall, but Fu beat her to it, moving with surprising dexterity.

Her face had frozen in some unsightly vestige of her confusion. She rubbed at her eyes, not understanding what she was seeing. In the old man’s hands, a turtle that couldn’t be a turtle sat, rolling on its shell. It pathetically tried using its head to flip back over but failed.

Words failed her. “W-why – why do you have that? What _is_ that?”

The man pulled the green creature closer to his chest. It looked up at her in that moment, yellow eyes watching her with almost an intelligence before it blinked and continued struggling on its back. Fu flipped him over in one smooth movement.

“He is a rare sea turtle. From China. They’re known for their big heads and little minds.” He winced then and shook his hand. “As well as biting.”

She pointed at it, unashamedly, and retreated back a few steps. “It talked. That _thing_ said something.”

Fu’s eyes dropped to the turtle, but just as quickly rose to meet her. A laugh found its way to the surface and he shook his head, setting the creature down on the floor. “Talking? How ridiculous. The air in here, it must be affecting you. I haven’t had the windows open in a while.” He lightly stepped over to the glass doors, pulling them open and allowing a fresh breeze in. Windchimes sang.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here,” again with the pointing and the no-nonsense tone, “but if that thing is on an endangered species list, if you’re a poacher – I won’t hesitate to call the authorities.”

Fu held up his hands placatingly. “I can assure you, I have done nothing wrong to have him in my possession. He was a gift. Given to me many years ago.”

She squinted down at the creature beginning to wobble closer to her. “It doesn’t look too old.”

“Things are often not what they seem.” He turned again, stepping away from the light angling in from the doorway. “I wonder, Mademoiselle Ladyblog,”

Alya stiffened. She fully anticipated him to use a tidbit of information on Ladybug to distract her, but she wasn’t going to let it work. No. All of this was just… too weird. There was something missing. She couldn’t lose her focus.

She scooped up the turtle in her palms, lifting it to align with the camera in her shirt pocket. She was going to make good on her threat, and no talk of Ladybug would keep her from that.

“Why has Chat Noir begun to call Ladybug, Coccinelle?”

Alya almost dropped the turtle. Every thought flew from her mind, including her recent vow.

“He what?”

Fu leaned back down, settling beside the center table once more. He folded his hands in his lap – the smile gone. “I heard him in one of your recent videos. Pianarchy, I believe. Perhaps that’s a sound lead for such an _inquisitive_ young reporter.”

Her mouth went dry. The turtle was only a small weight in her hands, but all of a sudden it seemed too much to bear.

Marinette… Bridgette.

Ladybug… Coccinelle.

Who else?

_Who else?_

This akuma, this _monster_ , was beginning to lead to a place she wasn’t sure she wanted to follow.

And yet, why had he mentioned it?

Suspicion hardened her gaze. “I’ll look into it,” she replied curtly.

“Good.” He nodded, as though confirming something to himself, then made it back to his feet and beckoned to the door. “Thank you for taking the time to speak to an old man, but I suspect you have class, don’t you, Mademoiselle Césaire?”

She released the turtle onto the table, caging it in between the cups and the teapot before brushing off her jeans and meeting him at the heavy door. She feigned a look of shock as she checked the time on her phone. “Yes, you’re right! I’ve got to run. Thank you, though!”

“Of course.” He held the door wide for her. “Your friends are lucky to have you, Alya. Should their back problem get worse or change, you should come back immediately. I’d be happy to give them a free consultation.”

She froze halfway out the door. Wiping the concern off her face, she pivoted to meet his eyes.

It was clear that neither of them was talking about chiropractory anymore.

“My mother,” Alya corrected. She wasn’t about to let him hold all the cards in this game. “It was my mother.”

He smiled pleasantly, and this time, it wasn’t quite as detached – like she had finally said something truly interesting. “Indeed.”

 

\---

As the brunette hurried down the street, Master Fu couldn’t help but linger at the shopfront window. So much bravery, facing the unknown for those she loved. So much hope, and perhaps, naivety. She could get into a lot of trouble like that.

The disapproving frown disappeared just about as quickly as it had formed.

A little trouble now and again wasn’t all that bad. Kept him young, after all.

Fu pulled the blinds down.

He hadn’t expected her to visit so soon. Someday, perhaps. But certainly not this quickly. No, he thought, amusement sparking. He had mistakenly believed Bridgette and Adrien’s visit had gone unnoticed.

Fu let out a slow, deep breath as he flipped over the open sign and shut off the front lights. He hadn’t exactly wanted to shut down early today, but after all that, he couldn’t imagine being focused enough to help any customers.

Things were moving far faster than he had anticipated.

It had only been a few days since the two had first approached him, and so far, neither he nor Wayzz had any answer for them. Unless… Fu paused. There was still the mystery of what Wayzz had tried telling him earlier – what he had risked exposure to tell him.

Shuffling to the opposite wall, Fu pushed open the old, wooden door and shut it decisively behind him. The kwami in question was sipping from his rapidly cooling tea – the one Alya had had her eyes on.

Fu settled down again at the table, taking care to make the way down slowly. He couldn’t afford an injury – not when he still had so much time-sensitive work to accomplish. Loathe as he was to admit it, with all this extra work heaped on, he had to be sure to take care of his health. He wrestled with turning the temperature up a bit in the room but cast away the thought a moment later. He was old, but not _that_ old yet. It was nothing a blanket and another cup of tea couldn’t solve.

Ignoring the ache in his joints, he stretched out and pulled a book that had been knocked aside closer to him. He half expected the kwami to send him a reproachful glare, but he was pleasantly surprised by the apology scrawled on his face. Over a hundred years together, and Wayzz’s gentle demeanor never failed to surprise him. 

Antennae drooping, Wayzz watched Fu uncertainly. “I’m sorry, I-”

Fu cut him off, waving the issue aside. “It is no problem, Wayzz. But what could possibly have been so important?”

The kwami perked up, rising in the air and zipping over to the phonograph. “It’s Trixx.”

Baffled, Fu only watched as his kwami punched in the code and sent the Miraculouses out of hiding. He reached in and pulled at the Fox Miraculous, dragging it into the air by its chain. An orange glow lined the object, pulsing with energy.

“I’m afraid if she had stepped any closer to the box, he would have appeared.”

The old man leaned forward, accepting the Miraculous from his kwami. In his hands, the light dimmed before retracting entirely. “What’s gotten into you, Trixx?” He murmured.

He covered the Miraculous with his hands until the spirit inside was once more put to rest. “How could he have appeared without being chosen?” Fu asked, frowning at the jewelry.

Wayzz bobbed his head up and down. “The alignment was strong. Foxes are sly, and it’s clear that something resonated with Trixx and the girl. We may have faced more than was on the surface.”

Fu’s hands lifted and Wayzz recovered the Miraculous. “I’m counting on that, Wayzz.”

As the kwami replaced the jewelry in the box, he frowned up at the man. “Master?”

“If things change,” he closed his eyes, thinking before he completed the words. “A fox must be willing to lie for her friends. And do so convincingly. They have her loyalty, it’s clear. But they will need her heart if she is to use her cunning to protect, rather than harm. She’s clever, and perhaps… she’ll be more of an asset than we can imagine.”

Wayzz dropped onto Fu’s shoulder, looking down at the book he had begun to sift through for what must have been the third time. “Are you sure, Master?”

“Oh, yes.” He reached for the pot and poured fresh tea into his cup. “She’ll be back. I’m sure of it.”

\---

By the time class settled back down, Alya walking in about ten minutes late with an apology muttered under her breath, Adrien was feeling rather optimistic.

Bridgette had agreed to talk later, the akuma had been defeated quickly, and his shoot that afternoon had been cancelled on account of the monster damaging part of the set.

His back still burned from having to dodge out of the way of wayward blasts, but in the end – he leaned back in his seat with a sigh – it was worth it. For the first time since Ladybug had vanished, things actually seemed manageable. Things were finally settling – 

The classroom door swung open.

He stifled a groan.

Chloe prowled in, nose in the air and nails about as sharp as her pride. Her typical dandelion-yellow cardigan had been replaced by a sunny shirt edged with peplum and an absolute monstrosity of a white jacket spilling over with fur. Designer jeans spilled into white heels.

Mme Bustier didn’t even bother to acknowledge her as she slid into her seat, only carrying on with her lesson. A strange tension began to mount in the room. Adrien glanced down at his bag to find Plagg squinting up at him. He could feel it too, then.

The pressure ever-mounted. He fidgeted in his seat, earning a concerned glance from Nino, who thankfully didn’t comment on it. As Mme Bustier switched subjects, Adrien paused in his note-taking. Daring a glance behind him, he found the source of his restlessness.

Bridgette, it would appear, had long-since stopped paying attention to the class. Her eyes were trained on Chloe, and from the careful way Alya side-eyed her best friend, it was clear that she had noticed something… off.

He whipped back around just in time for Mme Bustier to address the class. She paused, uncertain as to whether she had truly caught him not paying attention before deciding to let it slide and carrying on with the lesson.

The rest of the class proceeded as such: Adrien fidgeted, Bridgette glared at Chloe, Chloe proceeded to ignore said attention, Alya watched, and Nino took notes for all of them. Well, except perhaps for Chloe. She had Sabrina for that.

Right before the bell rang, Nino and Sabrina exchanged a knowing glance.

Mme Bustier tapped her pile of papers against her desk to straighten them, then took to the rows. She quickly passed back a test from a week ago, saying, “Once you have your grades back, you’re all dismissed.”

They sat in silence for but a few moments more, each in turn glowing or glowering at the sight of their grade. Adrien, for one, beamed at the sheet before him. Not that it was unexpected, but it was always nice to see the results of his hard work.

Their classmates began to file out, Kim leading the way with Ivan and Mylene right behind him. Bridgette had finally stopped staring at Chloe, and instead was feigning interest in the test. Beside her, Alya fidgeted with her phone, eventually laying it down to reveal a search page filled with images of turtles – some in the wild and others as stock photos.

He had to ignore that one. No doubt there was some story behind it, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know this time.

Nino nudged him with an elbow, beckoning him to lean forward conspiratorially.

“Dude, what’s going on with them? Are they fighting or something?”

Adrien glanced back once more. Bridgette and Alya were facing different directions, the former trying to force an awkward conversation with Juleka and Rose while the latter deeply engaged in chatting with Max.

“So, how long can they be without water?”

“That depends–”

Adrien returned to Nino, shrugging his shoulders. “How would I know? Hey, is Alya planning on getting a turtle or something?”

Nino’s frown was answer enough. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“Huh.”

The two craned their necks, watching as Bridgette stumbled over her words.

Grinning at Rose, she answered some unknown question with, “I’d love to see if we can work something out through the student body, Juleka.”

Dread surged through Adrien, staining his cheeks pink. He wasn’t responsible, and yet, he couldn’t help but think he had some part to play in making sure she knew the names of all their classmates by heart.

At least she was close?

Rose and Juleka each wore their confusion clear on their features, but it was Rose who tactfully asked, “Are you feeling alright, Marinette?”

The girl blinked up at them, her pigtails brushing the back of her chair as she cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, why?”

“Nothing, then.” She played with the edge of her pink dress, pulling at a loose thread. The two hovered over Bridgette as though expecting something more before Rose began to tug Juleka toward the door. As she stumbled away, the taller girl murmured a soft ‘thank you.’

Adrien chose to ignore Nino’s raised brow. Careful to not squish Plagg, he began to file his notebook and materials away. He had just tucked his test into the appropriate file folder when Alya finally stood, strutting past Marinette and unthinkingly staring at something on the screen on her phone. She was clearly aimed on a collision course with Chloe but had yet to notice.

Adrien froze, but had the sense of mind to reach out and smack Nino’s shoulder just as Alya knocked into the blonde.

It was clear from Nino’s sharp breath that he realized, just as well as Adrien, that he was about to be without a girlfriend. Her existence, as lovely as it had been, was about to be over.

“Ugh! Watch where you’re going, you freak! I already had to go home to change once today because of _one_ filthy urchin.”

Alya’s brows rose, mouth already open to fight back with a fiery retort of her own when someone beat her to it.

Adrien hadn’t noticed the exact moment when the hardness in Bridgette’s blue eyes had chipped over. Nor had he even seen her rise. It was like between one second and the next, a fuse had shattered – leaving someone else standing where she should have been. The tension that had risen cracked sharply, and the five others present were silent as she replied,

“You’re bound to get dirt on you when you push others into the mud all the time.”

Color filled Chloe’s cheeks, turning the tips of her ears pink as she sputtered a response. “How- how dare you? People love me!”

Bridgette’s snort echoed Alya’s muttered, “Oh really?”

“Shut it four-eyes. I bet you can’t even see the dirt after living in it for so long.”

Adrien startled. Weakly, he protested, “Chloe, that was a bit-” He dropped off.

Bridgette was on the move, stalking toward the blonde with a fist curled and dark intent in her grimace. Even Alya took a step back as she neared.

“You brat.” Her voice shook, but she pressed on. Something was churning within her, some deep emotion that had festered through the class and was finally leaking free. “Don’t you even see all the damage you cause? Ladybug can’t go around fixing all your messes!” She was yelling, knuckles turning white.

Adrien didn’t dare move a muscle. If he hadn’t been able to see Nino, he might not have believed he was even there with how silent he was.

Bridgette squared up with the girl, chest heaving. “There are children out there – mere children turning into criminals because of people like you. Can’t you see what’s wrong with that?”

If she felt at all swayed by Bridgette’s words, Chloe said nothing. Instead, she held firm, continuing to taunt the girl. “And what do you think you’re going to do about it? My father could get you-”

Adrien knew the slap wouldn’t hurt that much. Bridgette knew how to throw a punch, and she knew how to do so effectively. He’d borne the brunt of such a blow once before. So, when her flattened fist went wide, he knew the girl was holding back a strength that could have done some serious damage.

The sudden motion broke the spell transfixing him. 

Jolting into action, Adrien burst from his seat. He threw his arms wide and practically tackled Bridgette backwards. Her swipe lost most of its driving force, barely grazing Chloe as she stumbled away from the blonde. In one smooth motion, he cradled her back and deadlifted her, walking briskly toward the door and proclaiming loudly, “Wow, Marinette! You must not be feeling very well, just like Rose said! You know, you look like you might have a fever, let me take you to the nurse before you faint like that again.”

His reaction seemingly spooked the fight out of her, her eyes blown wide and her brows pinched together in horror. As though the reality of her situation had just smacked _her_ across the face, she froze, defaulting to going along with Adrien’s save. She raised a hand to her forehead, squinting up at the artificial light. “You’re right. I don’t feel too good.”

Alya was staring open-mouthed. Sabrina looked like she was about to be sick. He wasn’t sure that Nino was breathing.

Chloe had paled dramatically. “She just attacked me! That _beast_ just tried to hurt me!” She whipped her head around. “You all saw it!”

“Nonsense, Chlo,” Adrien managed a nervous laugh, turning to look at her and nearly knocking Bridgette’s head against the doorway. “She was reaching out to you because she realized she was about to fall. She must have been dizzy, right?”

The girl in his arms nodded, but slowly for effect.

“And you guys saw it too, right?” Adrien’s tense, pleading smile was aimed in turn at the three who had been shocked into silence.

Alya was the first to recover, clearing her throat. “Uh, yeah.”

More eloquently, Nino added, “It must have looked different from your angle.” He pushed at his glasses, not quite looking Chloe in the eye. “Perspective changes everything. Important film concept. To me it looked like she wanted to reach your shoulder to steady herself. We’re lucky my man caught her.”

Chloe gently brushed a hand against her cheek, as though checking for soreness. She glanced over to Sabrina, who nodded, placing her bets with her classmates. “It’s true, Chloe. She looks awfully pale, doesn’t she?”

To her credit, Bridgette’s eyes had fluttered shut, leaving her looking flushed from sickness, rather than anger.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, but at the assurances of Sabrina, began to calm down. “She’d better be dying of something, because if she ever touches me again…” The threat went unfinished. “Come on, Sabrina. I need to fix my makeup.”

His back was starting to burn from holding her up for so long with those wounds still lacerating across his spine. They shuffled out of Chloe’s way, waiting until she disappeared around the corner to drop her. Bridgette fell heavily to the floor. Adrien couldn’t help but think she deserved it as his back spasmed and he leaned on Nino’s desk for support.

The room let out a collective breath.

“Girl.” Alya was staring at Bridgette, arms folded and wariness in her eyes. “What is up with you?”

Bridgette mimicked the girl as she got to her feet, crossing her arms over her chest and backing up several paces. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“What she means is-” Adrien interjected, hoping to alleviate some of the damage. But Alya just shook her head.

“No, Adrien. I want to hear what she has to say for herself. The Marinette I know would never have done that. No matter how badly Chloe hurt someone.”

The words visibly stung the dark-haired girl. She stumbled back, that fevered light extinguished from her eyes. “You wouldn’t understand,” she eventually settled on. She turned on her heel and made for the door.

Alya scoffed. “I wouldn’t understand? What the Hell, Marinette! We all deal with Chloe every day. What don’t I get about that?”

Cowed, Bridgette didn’t reply. She shot a hurried glance at Adrien, locked eyes with Nino, and without a word, left.

Silence reigned.

Adrien rubbed at his back, eyes squinted shut. When he finally opened them, Nino was frowning at him.

“Your back alright?”

Adrien nodded, not quite trusting his voice. He half-heartedly bumped his knuckles against Nino’s, then ducked out to find Bridgette. Behind him, he could hear as Alya took his seat and leaned her forehead against his desk. Her hair spilled across in clumps and Nino put a hand on her shoulder, rubbing in small, soothing circles.

It wasn’t long before he found her.

She was slouched over in the dingy stairwell, pigtails taken out and fingers tangling in her loose hair. Her knees tucked against her chest, and as he quietly joined her, he caught her red-rimmed eyes.

He didn’t ask anything at first. Instead, he shut his eyes, focusing on the dull ache of the injuries that must have reopened.

When she finally did speak, loathing filled her tone. “Didn’t I tell you that I’m not good enough to act like Marinette?”

He mulled over what words to say, tapping his fingers together before his face. “Didn’t I tell you that you shouldn’t have to act like Marinette? That you should be like Bridgette?”

She scoffed. “Easy for you to say.” 

Bridgette rubbed at her eyes, burying her head in her hands. She let out a long, shuddering breath. Adrien left some space between them, but gently nudged her arm with his elbow.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Damn it, Adrien. How can you even be real?”

Baffled, he twisted to look at her. Below them, a student paused at the bottom of the flight of steps before changing their mind and hurrying back the other way. “What do you mean?”

Against the grey tones of the stairwell, the circles under her eyes looked more like bruises than anything else. Her exhaustion flooded off her in waves. 

“I mean,” she paused, pulling away from her cupped hands to face him. “I just tried to literally slap your friend, and rather than yelling at me for messing with her, you just asked me if I want to talk about it.”

Part of him yearned to agree. Part of him was twitching with aggravation at the very thought. Chloe wasn’t exactly the nicest person to be around, but even she didn’t deserve Bridgette’s impulsiveness.

But the other part of him, the docile lap cat that he was, recognized that Bridgette might be high-strung, but she generally had reason behind her actions.

He hesitated, and in response, she buried her head back in her hands.

It was clear, in every sense of the word, that Bridgette regretted losing her temper. He didn’t need to see her tears or hear the occasional sniff to know it. And Alya telling her she wasn’t acting like Marinette had only rubbed salt in the wound.

In the end, all he replied with was, “Well, do you?”

“I, I don’t know.” Her hands slipped from her cheeks, rubbing against her jeans. “I’m trying, Adrien. This place, it just… gets to me. I hate being constantly compared to Marinette, akuma aren’t taken seriously here – it’s like, it’s like no one cares!”

He looked down at the cement steps, watching a bug crawl across the floor. “Cares about what?” When she didn’t reply, he offered, “Does this have something to do with today’s akuma? The kid?”

For the first time, Coccinelle had looked upon one of their akumas with pity, rather than vengeance. When the little boy had started crying, and Chat had prompted her to help him, she had been shocked by just how much her embrace had meant to the kid. She had gone still, then returned the hug with fire and _understanding_. She had gone back to the rooftops with tears streaming down her cheeks – tears that he wasn’t entirely certain had come straight from the power of the moment.

When she held out her hand, he took it, letting her take her time.

“Sometimes, after they become akuma, the children don’t recover. Not in the way they should. Not like the adults do.”

Adrien watched as the tension began to uncoil and the words spilled out.

“And sometimes, after what they’ve done, they don’t know what to do. They – they’re confused. My friend – my friend’s little sister was akumatized. And she died.” Her voice cracked and the hand in his tightened. “She was… destructive, to say the least. People were killed. And when she saw what she had done, she didn’t even think. Just flung herself over the bridge before I could get to her.”

An anxious shiver turned his stomach.

“I had to bring her to her family. Gavroche opened the door and I-” She cut off, a high-pitched sob breaking through. “I had to tell them their daughter was dead. And pretend the next day that I didn’t know. I cou- I could have saved her.”

“So, the fact that Chloe caused the akuma…”

Her head lolled against the wall. “Your friend, the one who sits next to you. He looks just like Gavroche. And Chloe? She looks so much like my best friend, Allegra. I forgot where I was. I got confused - it was like living through it all over again, but all the facts were wrong.”

“And Alya?”

Bridgette sighed. “I don’t know. I just started thinking… if that had been Allegra standing there instead of her, I would have decked whoever had the gall to speak to her like that straight across the face.”

When she stopped explaining, he had the feeling she wasn’t about to start again.

Bridgette, as herself or Coccinelle, was a fighter. Diplomacy, talking things through - that was Marinette’s realm. But that fight, that flame burning so brightly within her hadn’t been sparked from wrath or injustice. It was a fevered heat – tempered by her need to protect what was around her. She didn’t lash out from mere anger or jealousy. She just wanted the child, Alya, and her own sense of self to be _safe_ or to burn the world trying.

So, naturally, when her voice died out – he laughed.

She jolted upright at the sound, whipping her head around to watch as he leaned back against the steps behind them and raised his eyes to the tiled ceiling.

“What’re you…”

Adrien ran a hand through his hair, mussing the neatly coiffed locks. Though a twinge of annoyance still coursed through him, he pushed it aside. “If that’s honestly what you’ve been dealing with all day, I can’t begin to believe how well you held that back. Bridgette, you say you’re not good enough to be Marinette, but I can guarantee you Marinette wouldn’t have made it on her own as long as you did.” He raised a hand to stop her interruption. “She would have dealt with it, but in her own way. She probably would have told someone sooner or went home after the attack, but I don’t think she could have just held it together in the same way you did.”

Bridgette was unresponsive – his captive audience.

“I won’t lie. I’m not exactly thrilled about what went down, but you don’t need me mad at you on top of everything else. We’ll work on it.” He offered her a tight-lipped smile and added drily, “And maybe we can find you a better stress-relief method that isn’t fighting Chloe when you’re upset.”

Her hand finally slipped from his. She brushed back a tuft of her hair.

“You should go home and get some rest. You look wiped out, and I don’t want you to get actually sick. Things will look better tomorrow, and we can figure everything out then. I’ll take care of duty and call you if anything happens?”

She nodded, slowly. He pushed himself up off the ground, though his back screamed in protest.

“You might have messed up today, but you haven’t failed yet. It’s gonna take time, but this will all blow over soon.”

Bridgette joined him standing, wiping at her eyes one last time. “I guess you’re right. And I could use some sleep. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow then?”

Relief bubbled through him. “Tomorrow.”

And as she picked her way down the stairs, he couldn’t help but check a little box off in his mind.

Chloe might still need some convincing, but he was almost certain that if he offered to spend some time with her tonight, she’d forget the matter entirely. Aimlessly, he patted around for his phone, dimly realizing he had left it back in the classroom – along with Plagg.

He raced back up the stairwell, praying to make it to the room before the custodians shut and locked it for the afternoon. However, once he was within sight, he found that the light was still on, and someone was still sitting in his seat.

Alya.

“Figured you’d be back for your stuff. Didn’t think it would take that long though.” Alya sat back, stretching her arms over her head and moving her wrist in a circle to crack it.

He scooped up his bag, crossing it over his shoulder and popping it open to verify Plagg was alright in there. The kwami was tightly curled up, taking a nap and didn’t appear to want to wake up anytime soon. Plagg probably hadn’t even noticed Adrien was gone.

“Thanks for watching it.”

Alya nodded, then swung her legs around to get out of the chair. “Course. How’s Marinette?”

“Better. She had a long day.”

“Did she now?”

Her response was worn and tired, and Adrien couldn’t help but sympathize with it. They’d all seen better days. Lately it had felt like the heaviness in his heart was set in stone – and without Marinette around, he was starting to lose a bit of hope that things were going to get better.

It was just… harder to keep it together without her around. He had no choice, though. If he fell, everyone would. He had to stay strong.

Adrien sighed as he shut the classroom door.

He just had to.

“I don’t like this, Adrien. Not one bit.”

He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t bother.” She shook her head. “I’m going straight to the Ladyblog when I get home. And I’m going to flag down Chat Noir and tell him everything.”

“What?" Adrien halted, turning to gape at her. “Tell him what? And why not Ladybug?”

Alya ignored the second question for reasons he couldn’t quite discern. “He needs to know that Marinette has been akumatized. And if you don’t tell me what you know, I’m going to put him on your trail. Do I make myself clear?”

“No.” He shook his head, brows furrowed. “No, you haven’t made yourself clear at all. Marinette isn’t akumatized.”

She clenched her jaw. “I didn’t want it to come to this.” Disgust laced her words. She brushed by him, and without so much as a second of hesitation, added, “Tell Bridgette that until I bring Marinette back – I want nothing to do with her.”

Alya vanished, but Adrien didn’t notice.

He didn’t seem to notice when the lights flickered out overhead, nor when his phone buzzed ten minutes later with an alert from the Ladyblog moderator herself calling to meet with him, Chat Noir, later that day.

In fact, everything had left his mind. From his waiting bodyguard to his plans with Chloe.

All of it replaced by one word, one name that Alya should never have known.

_Bridgette._

_Bridgette._

_Bridgette._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO FUN FACT: I wanted to have this done for April 13th. Yeah. Saying that deadlines and I don't really get along well seems to be just a _bit_ of an understatement. Uh, but it's here now. So enjoy!

Perhaps there was nothing more to say than, ‘it was _quiet_.’

There he sat, in his glass cage, where the sounds of the streets didn’t quite reach and the wind curving over the lip of the roof hardly dared to let the house even creak. Thin bursts of snow lifted off the edges of the windowsill, catching and swirling in the soft lamplight.

Félix had taken up his position in the dark armchair hours ago – exchanging his dress pants for kitten-soft grey sweats, and his vest for a green cableknit sweater with sleeves that were just too long for his arms. Last year’s Christmas gift from a girl he hardly knew anything about.

A girl that he knew far too much about.

Dimly, he realized his tea had grown cold.

A book lay sprawled open in his lap, but his attention had been diverted from it for a few minutes now. Few sights in Paris were as captivating as this – and he should know. He’d seen the city from all sorts of angles – aerial, rooftop, bottom of the Seine - and yet, none of those floored him quite like this.

It was nothing more than an empty room looking out onto empty streets, and yet, it was safe. It was familiar. It was… broken by something red crossing his field of vision.

Outside, Ladybug swung by. She dipped low across frost-coated streets and skimmed the tops of buildings, casting out her yo-yo in smooth, practiced throws. She disappeared from his sight after a matter of moments, but a wedge of dread had already lodged itself in his chest.

Dragg had curled up to sleep hours ago, and save for a few snores, hadn’t bothered Félix. If he woke the kwami now, he’d be up half the night tearing down his bookshelves and throwing paper across the room. No amount of cheese would placate him.

He shut his eyes, sinking deeper into the well-worn armchair. Maybe she didn’t need him. Maybe, if it was an akuma, she could handle it by herself. Bridgette was more than capable-

_Oh._

His eyes flew open, the darkness of the room sending a shiver crawling down his spine.

_Right._

Images flickered through his mind – Bridgette offering him toffee with an overenthusiastic smile, Coccinelle glaring up at him with tearstained cheeks, Marinette squaring her shoulders and braving the storm washing over them. He willed the thoughts away but found himself running right back to them.

He’d been shocked at first. Hadn’t left the stairs, his feet frozen to the ground. It was Allegra who had eventually checked up on him, breaking him out of his trance.

But then…

A flush raced across his cheeks and he found himself grateful that Dragg was passed out on his pillow.

He’d just felt warm. Bubbling up from his chest and spreading heat through him, he’d had to hide his face with the umbrella, lest anyone get any ideas as to why he was blushing. And really, why should he be blushing? It was only Bridgette. Only Bridgette, with her bright blue eyes and those frankly _adorable_ hair ribbons and –

No.

Félix rubbed at the bridge of his nose. 

He wasn’t going to get distracted by that. Not again. Besides, it wasn’t even Bridgette. It was Marinette, he reminded himself, and not for the first time. It was Marinette, and Marinette was far less equipped to deal with the magic and danger of this world than he was. Granted, she had her Lucky Charm, but that was no substitute for awareness.

More than one villain stalked the streets of Paris.

There was more than one way to steal a Miraculous. And if one of _them_ came out to play… it would be best for Ladybug to have backup nearby.

He set the book next to his discarded cup of tea and swung his legs over the chair. As he rose, Dragg shifted, his little body barely making an indent in the pale pillowcase. He cracked open a window, rubbing his arms against the chill, and quietly called out his transformation.

Félix could practically feel Dragg’s displeasure enveloping him. That, and a strange sense of resolve. His revenge was not going to be pretty. Shaking it off, Cat Noir perched on the edge of the windowsill and cast himself into the darkness.

\---

Strange shadows lined the night.

Shadows of things that could not be and shadows of things that plainly weren’t.

Ladybug had been trailing the Mime for several blocks now, but surprisingly, he had yet to do any real damage. She’d been hoping he’d say something or draw enough attention to coax Cat out from wherever his civilian self was, and yet, this akuma was being… _discreet._

It was enough to make her pause, and when she caught Cat’s terrified gaze, she was glad to have waited.

He was facing her on an opposing roof, finger pressed over his lips and making shooing motions with his other hand.

Wordlessly, she acquiesced. 

She landed lightly on the ground some blocks away, Cat’s boots crunching in the mound of snow he’d dropped into. He led her further from the akuma without a word, nervously scanning the skies and keeping to the shadows. The longer the silence stretched between them and the further they went from the Mime, the more he seemed to relax. 

It wasn’t until they reached the Seine that she dared ask, “Why are we running from the akuma?”

Ears perked straight up, Cat continued to glance around warily, as though they hadn’t left the danger miles behind. Distracted, he replied, “Because that wasn’t an akuma.”

She blinked, faltering in her step. “What?”

A frown tugged at the corner of Cat’s mouth as he glanced at his ring. “He’s another villain. Doesn’t come out too often, and I don’t know where his magic comes from, but he means bad news. Just stay away if you see him.”

At his prompting, Ladybug reluctantly continued their march forward. “I don’t know, Cat. It feels wrong to not do something about it.”

“Mercury will take care of it.”

“Mercury?”

A cold breeze lifted off the Seine. Cat pulled him arms to his chest, bobbing his chin toward the collar of his costume. Tikki’s magic flooded Ladybug briefly, dispelling the worst of the chill.

“Another hero,” he explained. She shot him a quizzical expression and he prompted, “Fast, a blur of blue, thinks he’s better than us so he never talks to us?” 

There was no hint of recognition. Stumped, he let out a soft ‘huh.’

“Maybe he’s just shy,” she suggested, nudging him with an elbow. “I’d love to meet him sometime.”

Cat rolled his eyes. “I’m not his mother, I can’t just set you up a playdate with him.”

She tugged at his arm, nearly knocking him over with the unexpected pressure. “Come on, you have to have some way of contacting him. Please? There aren’t any other heroes in my Paris.”

“Didn’t you want to keep a low profile?” He grumbled but was already wilting under her pleading gaze. “Fine. Maybe. Let’s let him be for now, though. If Mime’s out, he’s gonna have his hands full.”

“We could help him.”

Cat brushed her hand off his arm, shaking his head and adamantly refusing. “No, I’m allergic to feathers and that never ends well.”

She blinked. “What does that have to do with Mime?”

“Where Mime is, Monsieur Pigeon is never far away. They just aren’t our problem. They… well, they don’t work for Papillon, exactly. But they’ll work with him and try to take your Miraculous if you aren’t careful. They’re dangerous.”

Ladybug tightened one of her pigtails as they walked. “Monsieur Ramier? Really?”

“Who?” Cat had gone still. “Wait, don’t tell me you know their identities.”

She frowned. “Of course I do. Monsieur Ramier and Monsieur Haprele were akuma back in my world.” She took a second, considering. “You know, my Chat had allergies too.”

Cat was staring – green eyes wide and body frozen. His hands latched onto her shoulders, shaking her as he repeated, _“You know their identities? Ladybug, do you know what that even means? We have a chance to beat them now.”_

“I thought we didn’t work with Mercury,” she replied, head still spinning with the concept of another hero.

Cat released her to run his claws through his hair. “I think we’re obligated to if he tries to take them down.” He reeled back, a smile developing on his face. “I can’t believe I figured it out before him. I’ll never let him live it down.”

“Didn’t I technically figure it out?”

In response, he waved a hand at her. She couldn’t help the wave of amusement rushing over her.

“So, do you know how to stop their powers? Or was he bit by a radioactive mime?”

The look Cat shot her was well worth it.

“We should just leave it up to Mercury.”

She hummed in agreement, and the conversation was dropped. Cat cast another wary glance at his ring, and knowing his aptitude for bad luck, she asked, “What are you doing out here? We’re not exactly being productive out here.”

His cat ears twitched, and the hand with the ring balled into a fist. “I saw you going by and thought there might be trouble.”

“Good guess.”

“Yeah.”

Silence. And then,

“Can I ask you something?”

Ladybug looked up at him, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Anything.”

He hesitated. She stretched a hand out to him, placing it on his shoulder to encourage him.

“I need help with something. A favor, and not just anyone can do it.”

“Okay, I can-”

“In my civilian life,” he interjected.

A bloom of uncertainty swelled, her jaw shifting to the side and lips pursing. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help him, but he knew as well as she did what that risk might cost. If they found each other out, they might mean revealing their partners. And, she thought with a wince, though she and Chat were distant, she didn’t have the right to take his identity from him. 

In the end, she left it with a clipped, “I see,” and removed her hand from him.

“It’s a little serious. If something went wrong, my family would… I just don’t know who to ask for it,” he admitted, voice low. “I don’t exactly have a long list of candidates.”

“Is it dangerous?”

Cat didn’t answer at first, eyes haunted and face downcast. “If something goes wrong,” he said slowly, “it could be very bad for me.”

A brow rose beneath her mask, but she didn’t press the issue. “Well, how about this? Is there anyone you can trust?” Before he could reply, she held up a glove, silencing him. “And I don’t mean a close friend, necessarily. There are some things you can’t ask of your best friend, and I get that. Sometimes, someone means so much to you that you don’t want whatever it is to hurt them. So instead of just someone you’re close to in your civilian life – is there anyone out there with the heart to do what’s right and help get you through,” she gestured wildly, “ _whatever_ this is?”

Ladybug could see the wheels spinning from the frustrated little pout that gave away, melting into an idea clear-as-day. She knew something had crossed his mind but didn’t know that it was the brush of hands, reaching for a shared umbrella. It was of a storm that suddenly didn’t seem so dark. It was of a smile, resolute and strong.

He nodded, almost to himself. “There’s one girl, I think.”

“And what is it you’re _not_ going to do?”

Cat hesitated with his response, “That’s a rather open-ended question with many potential answers.”

She shot an exasperated glance skyward. “Don’t be her friend just because you need something from her. Find someone and ask her because of what she is – not because she can do what you need.” Softer, she added, “Don’t make the same mistake you did with Coccinelle.”

He met her gaze, green eyes glowing. “I won’t.”

\---

In all, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising that he and Marinette had ended up like this.

A low rumble of voices spread thin across the library, just quiet enough to not grab the attention of the librarian on duty. Claude and Gavroche had already claimed his usual table – but today that wasn’t as big of a deal. He wasn’t working by himself, for once.

When he’d walked into class earlier that morning, it had been with a heavy heart and a tinge of guilt. He wanted to ask Marinette to help him out, but at the same time, that would almost be an insult to Bridgette. Now that he knew who Ladybug was, and therefore who Coccinelle was, using Marinette like that wouldn’t be fair. With the rocky relationship he had with Bri, it was entirely possible that inviting her alter-ego would do nothing to smooth the tensions.

He’d brought up his conundrum with Dragg, who had merely said “they’re different people” before taking a bite of his essay – an essay he’d since had to reprint.

Startlingly enough, that had been all the push Félix needed to make up his mind. He wouldn’t ask Marinette. He couldn’t, not if he – dare he say it – wanted to try and fix things with Coccinelle. It would be an abuse of his knowledge.

But surely, working on another project with her wouldn’t be.

In fact, he’d almost been glad to see Allegra ignoring the girl seated beside her. Madame Gravois hadn’t wasted a second announcing the next project; she seemed to assign more of those rather than actually teach the subjects herself. Before Marinette could be rebuffed by her ‘best friend,’ he had taken the chance and swung around to face her.

“Bridgette,” he had said, voice stiff.

Marinette had turned, blinking in surprise. “Uh, hi?”

“We did well together on that last presentation. Would you work with me again?”

He could have sworn she’d blushed, just a little bit.

Dumbly, she’d nodded her agreement and he’d smiled at her. A small one, but a genuine smile nonetheless. If anyone seemed to notice her melting, just a little bit in her seat, they didn’t comment on it.

And just like that, there they were, poking through books in the library. Claude and Gavroche had gone straight to the internet to look for sources. But both he and Marinette had decided they’d rather poke through the shelves for some inspiration before settling down.

_“Let’s start over. Together.”_

He’d taken the first step at least.

Laden with an armful of books each, the two retreated back to the table with the others and began scanning some sections for background history on the subject. But what with his attention drifting to the mystery of Ladybug and Coccinelle and how exactly they’d gotten mixed up being one of the only things he could focus on, it wasn’t long before he’d pulled out a notebook and began reviewing some parts of the plan. There was no telling when the next akuma would show, but when it did, he had to be ready.

Claude snickered at something Gavroche said and the librarian’s head snapped to look at him.

Claude.

Yeah.

That was another problem.

Because Claude wasn’t just Claude, naturally. He was Claude Haprele. And if what Ladybug had said last night was true, and if the way Marinette was staring at the boy meant anything, then it was highly likely his father had to be a supervillain. What a shitty thing to have to break to someone.

That was Mercury’s problem, though. Félix could deal with that later, after he got Marinette back home.

She shoved a book into his space, pointing at a section. “I can’t make heads or tails of this. Are your books any better at explaining?”

How could she be so focused now, knowing what she did?

Félix brushed the thought away and leaned forward, scanning the text. “I think it just means… hm.” He grabbed the closest book and flipped to the index. He dragged a finger down the page, and once he found what he was looking for, switched to that section. He pushed it over to her. “Is that any better?”

Her face lit up. “Much, thank you! You’re really good at this.”

He made a face. “At what?”

“Researching.” She clarified. “It would have taken me hours to figure that out.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, but some of the surprised coldness fled him. “Oh, well, I’m sure it wouldn’t have been hours.”

“With my luck…” she didn’t finish the line, attention caught on the passage.

_You don’t know anything about bad luck._

And maybe that was why he was so worried about everything going exactly to plan when the akuma hit. He’d been more relaxed with suiting up lately, and his curse had yet to reciprocate. And unless Dragg was accepting his half-assed excuses for doing so, the curse was building. Raising his bad luck to an unpredictable level.

Some time later, the bell rang to dismiss the students to lunch. Claude and Gavroche had already vanished with Allegra, leaving an oblivious Marinette and a bemused Félix watching her. “Do you plan on studying through break?”

She launched up in her seat, eyes wide as she realized the rest of the class had vanished. Félix piled the last of his books on the table and leaned back. She hurriedly packed and rose to her feet, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Marinette had just pushed her chair in when she paused, as though something had just struck her.

A worried frown touched her lips. “Are you coming?”

He shook his head, looking down at his near-finished report. “No.”

She hesitated, then dragged her chair back out and took a seat. Slowly, she reached for a book. “Okay.” Then, without a word, she snapped back into academia. “If we can get the rest of this research done before the end of the day, I think I can do my share of the presentation done later tonight. I have to help out in the bakery after classes, so I can’t stay after to help you then.”

Marinette looked up, but he didn’t respond. He was still just looking at the paper.

No questions asked, she’d just stayed. He didn’t offer an explanation, didn’t tell her about how he liked to hide in the library rather than going home for lunch. She just sat there and joined him. Incredible.

He hummed thoughtfully, feigning interest. “You did so much for the project last time,” he started, slowly. “I can put it together if you want.”

She shook her head. “I’m sure you had good reason. We’ll split it up evenly. We have time; it doesn’t need to be done until the last day of classes and we already have a good start.”

With that, she settled down to work, pushing through the book and finishing up the details of her part soundlessly. Occasionally the librarian looked over, wondering at the girl that was sitting next to him. Her caught her eye more than once, shrugging as if to say he didn’t know why she was sitting around and why she wasn’t making a ruckus like Bridgette was apt to do.

It was almost pleasant, sitting there together, noses in books. When they made an effort, it was almost easy to get along. Things were okay.

Félix winced.

It couldn’t last. Because if he went through with their plan, she had to leave him. Just like his mother, walking out and never looking back. Just like his father, spurning him aside for his uselessness. Just like everyone. Every except Gavroche and Claude, that was.

The thought saddened him. He set his pencil down and stood, vanishing into the bookshelves for a moment of quiet as his heart thumped heavy in his chest. His relationship with Bridgette was strained, to say the least. Bridgette was abrasive, for certain. But Marinette’s gentleness was startling, soft, and exactly what he felt he needed in his life.

A friend. Just… a good friend.

His mind wandered, sinking to a memory of another day in the library – a day not all that long ago.

Autumn leaves had begun to fall, orange light filtering in through the high windows of the library. He’d taken a seat in one of the plush chairs in the far corner, expecting not to be disturbed. It wasn’t like him to stay after school without purpose, but almost mindlessly he’d decided to treat himself with an hour or so of quiet. The library was one of his favorite places, particularly the classics section. He’d grabbed a copy of Wuthering Heights and settled down, going so far as to loosen his tie a little and prop his feet up on the dusty coffee table. Nobody ever went this deep in; it wasn’t like anyone would catch him soaking in the sun.

But she had.

Bridgette had shown up, as she so often did. But before he could scowl at her, or politely ask her to leave him alone, she had left. It was strange, and since the incident with Coccinelle, he’d tended to take Bridgette’s appearances as being nothing but bad luck.

It wasn’t until he’d stood, nearly an hour later, that he’d realized she’d left something on the table. A bag of toffee, with a card attached.

_Happy Birthday – Bridgette._

Simple, unintrusive, and heartfelt.

And if he had given her a chance, if he had actually tried to befriend her – maybe things could have been different. He definitely needed some boundaries, but they could work something out, he was sure. He wanted to learn, at least, to relax a little and be more open. To be what Bridgette needed, too.

Loathe as he was to admit it, he kinda… missed her. Missed her energy, her high-spirits. He hadn’t known she was gone until just a little while ago, but now the difference was shockingly clear.

So as much as he enjoyed Marinette’s presence, as much as it hurt to know his friend was leaving, he knew he had to do the right thing. To get her back home or die trying. For both her sake, and Bridgette’s.

Félix rejoined her at the table, brushing all else but the words before him out of mind and out of sight.

\---

Something was festering in Allegra’s mind. 

Something dark and something unwanted. A heartfelt suspicion and a ghastly hatred. All for someone who had once been the closest thing she had to a sister.

She tugged her hood over her eyes as sleet sloshed on the street, carrying with it the grime of the city. Her fingers wrapped around her flute case, and on her back her schoolbag weighed at her.

Hatred, perhaps, was too strong a word. 

She always had felt things more profoundly than some of her classmates, but Bridgette had always been tuned into that. Bri knew when things were bad and knew when Allegra’s heart felt like it would burst for all the hope she held. But something had gone askew. A compass off its axis. Somehow, they’d gotten lost, separated. And once gone, that careful balance could no longer find itself.

Hatred, she thought, was not the right word.

Disconnect, discord, despair were all somehow fitting. She wore her heart on her sleeve and knew that hadn’t changed. It had to be something wrong with Bridgette.

She raised her face to the sleet, letting it strike her wisps of blonde hair, matting them to her forehead.

The street was surprisingly dead. A pair of kids leaving school walked on the same side of the street as her, and a bakery on the corner had a few buyers entering and exiting. Otherwise it was quite quiet. Must have been an effect of the weather.

Something flickered overhead.

She squinted up through the rain, well-aware of the subtle murmurings giving way to frenzied activity as the city took cover.

Streaks of red flame violently lit the sky, and a wash of heat poured onto the street. Allegra darted to the side, but shopkeepers had already locked their doors. She pounded on a window display with a fist. “Let me in!”

No response, and a wash of red crested the rooftops. An akuma.

A nervous trill ran through her and her golden head whipped back and forth as she searched for a hiding spot. Other citygoers had already filled the closest alley, and cars were zooming away from the danger. She held out a hand, praying someone would stop, but the drivers knew better. If you were in the wrong place at the wrong time during an attack, you were as good as dead.

Fiery wings and a throaty roar burst from the flames, and a figure soared out of the chaos. It dropped, all metal and ember and smoke. The ground shook where it landed.

Allegra tripped, landing heavily and unable to rise for the vibrations. She held back a cry, but it was too late. The akuma had spotted her.

She pushed back, crawling backward as fast as she could even as flame rose from the creature’s skin and oppressive heat singed the ends of her hair.

Something grabbed her.

“Come on!”

She looked at the hand and was promptly yanked to her feet, meeting determined blue eyes.

“Bridgette?”

The dark-haired girl yanked her back down just as a ball of fire arced over her head. “Move!” She yelled and raced down the street. Allegra had little choice but to follow.

The two turned the corner as a curl of flame struck the edge of the building and shattered the windows in their panes. Allegra gasped, but the air was turning dark with smoke and the acrid tang caught in her lungs.

A blur of blonde and black was coming at them, running toward the monster. Cat didn’t so much as pause to check on them, but for a heartbeat, she could have sworn his eyes locked on Bridgette.

Before she could wonder at that, a coughing fit struck her. Bridgette shot her a concerned look and yanked her to the ground, the two sliding behind the cover of a dense, leafy bush. Her flute case went flying.

Bush. 

Fire. 

Bush. 

Fire. 

It wasn’t exactly the best protection, but it was better than nothing. Under the clearer air, her coughing eased. Questions immediately rose in her mind, as far as why Bridgette was even here at this time, but before she could form the words, Bridgette clamped a hand over her mouth. 

She was going to die.

Hot tears leaked from her eyes, but Bridgette didn’t seem to notice. Just stared out, watching as Cat Noir approached the flaming mass.

“Papillon!” Cat’s voice, unbrittled by smoke. “I wish to speak with you.”

The akuma let out a roar, flinging metal pellets at him. He ducked, and they consequently struck the ground. The boy straightened, daring another step closer to the akuma with his hands raised.

“I have a proposition for you. You would be a fool not to listen.”

Though the air was blisteringly hot, there was a cold pit in her stomach. It was doubtful that anyone else could hear Cat. Allegra met Bridgette’s eyes, but the other girl remained unfazed.

The akuma raised its monstrous hand. Smoke coalesced in its palm; sparks flew from the swirling orb.

“Papillon.” His voice raised, a hint of desperation lancing as his wide green eyes stared straight ahead.

There was a change, then. The harsh red of the fire began to dwindle. A violet core formed, glinting out of the mass of metal shards that comprised the figure. A mask in the shape of a butterfly lifted, mere lines above what must have been the akuma’s face.

A voice came from within, replacing the beast’s roar with words silky and smooth and clear as day. 

_“To what do I owe this honor, Cat Noir?”_

Allegra whined against Bridgette’s palm and the girl shot her a glare.

She could hardly see the superhero from where she lay sprawled against the pavement. Rubble dug into her cheek and her hands were scraped. Allegra shoved at Bridgette’s hand, but it didn’t budge. In response, Bridgette dug her knee in Allegra’s stomach, effectively silencing her.

Cat crossed his arms, standing demurely before the inferno. The flame turned his hair coppery and gold, and his green eyes glinted like jewels.

“Cut the pleasantries, Papillon. I don’t have much time before Coccinelle shows up.”

_“Oh? And what is it I can do for you, little hero?”_

His head tilted heavenward, lazily watching as embers drifted through the thick smears of smoke. “I’m tired, Papillon. This,” he paused, “war of attrition has gotten us nowhere. And frankly, I don’t know that I care anymore. I don’t remember what it is I’m supposed to be fighting for.” He drifted off, tone heavy and face distant.

Cat refocused suddenly, the expression on his face… _changed._

“We get no recognition. No gratitude. No favor. What’s keeping me from turning to the winning side?” A sharp laugh rang through the deserted street, eyes feverishly bright. “It was easy enough to do once. And what a shock that caused. Finally, attention.”

Papillon replied painfully steadily. _“You’re trying my patience, little hero. What are you trying to say?”_

Cat raised his hand, offering it to the flaming beast. “I’m here to offer you my Miraculous.”

The akuma sparked violently but didn’t move any closer to the boy.

“In return for a favor, that is.”

The smoke shifted, and the beast rattled a questioning growl. The purple all but vanished before overwhelming the red. The monster squealed and thrashed about. Cat jumped back, falling into a crouch. He scanned the skies, as though watching out for Coccinelle.

Pleased surprise laced Papillon’s clear voice. _“And what sort of favor would you ask of me?”_

“An akuma of my choice.”

Allegra struggled for her phone to record the scene, but Bridgette jabbed her stomach harder. Her phone fell from her grip and Bridgette plucked it from her hands just as quickly. Her brows bunched, and Bridgette hissed, “if they see us, we’re as good as dead!”

 _“Little hero,”_ The flames expanded to surround the hero, obscuring him from sight. _“You are quite trying my patience. Tell me, why should I not end you now?”_

The two strained to hear his answer over the crackle of the swirling fire.

“Coccinelle.”

The fire thinned.

“You have failed to take our Miraculous time and time again.” The heat caused his image to ripple before them. He raised a fist, ring glowing in the scorching light. “But you never tried to pit us against each other. We’ve already established that I can beat Coccinelle in a fight. She trusts me, and truly believes Trou de Verr was an accident. I can solve all of your problems in one go and put on an excellent show while I’m at it.” His words were a purr. “You want a new world, Papillon? So do I.”

_“How do I know I can trust you?”_

“I want to save my own skin. This war will take a heavy toll on us, on all of us. Surely you can understand that.” His cheeks were flushed from the heat, from the deal, from the prospect of escape. “We are not so different, _Master_ Papillon. Ask whatever you will of me, and I will do it. But I believe my Miraculous is all you truly desire of me.” He bowed, casting his ring hand out in a flourish. His tail curled to the side, brushing the edge of the dissipating flame. 

_“While this makes a most interesting offer, little hero, I find it hard to believe you would abandon Coccinelle so happily.”_

“Coccinelle is a fool. I’ll admit, I once believed in her vision.” His tail fell, buckle cracking against the ground. “But all I see now is fire and ruin and you pulling the strings.” He grew quiet. “If I am to give up, I’d rather it be on my terms than on my death.”

The fire cleared, retracting to the akuma. Papillon’s response filled with a certain satisfaction. _“And so the truth comes out. Cat Noir, a coward.”_

“I prefer survivor.”

 _“Call it what you will.”_ The flames rose in a manner reminiscent of a dismissive hand. _“What sort of akuma would you like?”_

“Trou de Ver. To finish what I started.”

_“When?”_

“On your signal as you wish. I’ll be ready at any time. But another thing: I want you there. In the flesh.” A pause. “Trou de Ver was easy to evade, but I doubt Coccinelle wants to take another dip in a portal. It will throw her off, and your presence will distract her long enough for me to get the earrings.”

Papillon said nothing.

“The deal stands as is.” Cat tapped his boot against the ground. Black marks scored the road around him from the fire. Ice caught in pavement grooves had melted and evaporated. “Or we will have no deal at all.”

_“And when shall I receive your Miraculous?”_

“I will deliver it to you personally.”

 _“I see.”_ The beast gave in on itself, collapsing and dying. The metal realigned into a human shape, tinted purple and shining amongst the dusky smoke. _“Then, we have a deal, little hero. But if you turn on your word, you will regret it.”_

Cat smiled just the hint of a smile. The metal began to disintegrate, leaving a confused victim shaking in their boots. A purple butterfly flapped out of sight. “As will you, _Master_.”

Cat’s face brightened considerably at the man standing before him, and he went as far as brushing some of the ash off his shoulders before taking a few steps back. “Do you remember what happened?” He ran a hand through his blonde hair, sure to show off how sharp his claws were.

The victim shook his head. While she couldn’t quite tell if they were lying or not, their eyes were blown wide with fear, and it was clear to Allegra that even if they had heard the plan, they had no intention of talking.

“Good.”

Cat took one more look around before slinking off. As soon as he was out of sight, the victim fell to his knees and Bridgette took her hand off Allegra’s mouth.

Streaks of smoke darkened their faces and left their eyes bloodshot. Allegra shifted her jaw and rubbed at the spot Bridgette had kneed her in. “We need to go find Coccinelle.”

Bridgette’s mouth pursed. It was enough to close Allegra off.

“What? What’s that face for?”

“I just don’t know that we should get involved.” Bridgette had the decency, at least, not to look her in the eye.

For a moment, she was speechless. Then, something snapped. She jumped to her feet. “What the Hell, Bridgette! You’re always the first one to throw herself into danger. You hate Papillon! You always fight!”

The dark-haired girl said nothing, shifting on her feet. “It’s dangerous. Something like this…” The half-hearted answer only served to aggravate Allegra further.

“What’s wrong with you? You aren’t acting like yourself.”

“How should I be acting?”

“You should _care!_ ” Allegra retorted, an angry grunt following her words.

Bridgette protested, “I do care!”

“No, you don’t.” Allegra shook her head, retreating backwards. She snatched her flute case up from where it had skidded away. “Not about me, and not about this. I’ll make Coccinelle believe me. I’ll save her by myself if I have to.”

She pivoted, then paused. She glanced over her shoulder.

“You know something, Bridgette?”

The girl said nothing, just looked at her hopefully.

“Félix was right. Cat Noir is a worthless killer. He doesn’t deserve your pity. He deserves nothing except death, and I can’t wait for Coccinelle to take him down.”

Hatred, Allegra thought, was too weak a word.

\--

The bell rang loudly as Félix Agreste stepped through the bakery doors, his tie fastened tightly and a nervous frown on his face.

With the daytime rush over, most of the patrons had departed the shop for home, and Bridgette’s mother had vanished upstairs to work on some finances. Her father was manning the till, theoretically. But with a rag in his hands wiping down tables and humming along to a song on the radio playing overhead, Félix wasn’t entirely certain Monsieur Dupain-Cheng had heard him enter.

He cleared his throat.

The man jumped.

“Oh, hello son. What can I help you with? Chocolate pastry? Apple tart?”

Félix twisted the ring on his finger and said unblinkingly, “I was actually hoping to talk to your daughter. Bridgette?”

Her father smiled warmly, far warmer than a stranger would ordinarily. “Sure, she should be in the back. What’s your name?”

“Félix. Félix Agreste.”

The rag dropped only slightly quicker than his mouth. He recovered swiftly and pushed Félix to the door in the back. “You know, she’s actually helping with a flour load-in outside. Maybe you should give her a hand.”

Félix blanched. “No, uh, I don’t think I should just walk in. I might scare her.”

“Nonsense, Bridgette will be delighted to see you.” Tom ushered him through a door before he could protest further. The door clicked, leaving Félix wondering if he’d just been locked in. Dragg snickered in his coat pocket. He didn’t dare try the knob.

He snuck forward, slipping across the dark kitchen and past a stacked pile of flour bags. A back door was open, allowing for the evening air to provide thin illumination. He stepped through, blinking down at Marinette.

Her back was to him and though the night was chilly, sweat beaded down her face. She gripped one of the bags in the back of her family’s truck and hefted it high on her shoulders. A grunt, and the bag began to slip. He rushed forward before he even knew what he was doing to catch and steady it.

“Félix? Ah!”

Marinette squawked as the bag slipped from their hands and immediately burst on contact with the ground. Flour plumed, billowing up and caking to her grubby tee shirt and his designer coat. He was immediately reminded of the smoke that had smeared her face earlier, and though it had been a part of their plan that she would be there for backup, the distance on her face had almost hurt when they’d rushed by each other. Part of him silently hoped she hadn’t been within earshot to hear what terrible things had so easily come to his lips. A role, once played, was hard to forget.

Félix could have sworn he’d seen a camera flash up above.

Marinette turned and blinked up at it too, clearly wondering at it herself.

She wiped a hand across her still-bloodshot eyes and sighed. She leaned over and tugged at the bag, beginning to drag it over to the dumpster. He lamely followed, bending to snatch up the other end of the bag.

“Let me,” he murmured, and helped her carry it over.

Once they’d gotten it in, she paused, breathing heavy. “What are _you_ doing here?”

He flinched at the way she said it. Marinette seemed to notice, and she amended, “Not that there’s a problem with you being here or anything, it’s just not every day that you do, um, come here, that is.” She smiled nervously, forcing her babbling to end.

“About that,” he looked away. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

She relaxed a little, curiosity giving in. They’d certainly come to an understanding earlier and were on better terms after he’d taken the first step with the project, but even this was a bit much. He couldn’t ask her. It would be… weird.

“Okay, what’s on your mind?”

An olive branch had been passed, and nothing more. And though he knew he had bigger worries, though he knew he shouldn’t expect anything from her, he couldn’t help but dare to hope, “Would you… like to accompany me to the Mayor’s Christmas Gala?”

_“What?”_

Her yelp was accompanied by two others. He shot a skyward glance to where blinds innocently swung in a window frame.

He hummed nervously, hands itching to fidget with his ring again. Instead, he wrapped his fingers around the strap of his bag. “You- you can say no, of course,” he ended. “I know we’ve hardly spoken and you must not like how I’ve been acting as of late but-”

“No, no, no!” She interrupted, throwing her hands forward. “That’s not what I mean, I-I’m just surprised, is all.”

His voice detached a little. Not cold, just distanced. “I’m sure.”

They waited for a moment, both stirring slightly in the awkward moment. Marinette rubbed the bridge of her nose, smearing more flour. He took a half-step back.

“I’ll just go, then.” His heart pounded traitorously in his chest, a dark flush across his cheeks matching hers. Dragg shook with laughter. There it was, the bad luck that had had to break. At least it had before the final battle.

“Wait!”

He paused on the doorstop, ears burning.

Marinette cleared her throat. “I’ll go with you.”

His stomach did a violent flip-flop. “You… will?”

She smiled, if a bit nervously. “Sure. I take it you had to ask someone?”

Félix wilted, and it was answer enough.

She only laughed, though, utterly unfazed by it. “Alright. But I do have one question. Why’d you ask me?”

His mouth tightened, and his nose crinkled. He quickly glanced down and ruffled through his bag, pulling out an object. Weakly, he offered, “Well, I needed some excuse to give you your umbrella back, didn’t I?”

Marinette paused. The dots connected, and she burst into laughter. Hand on her stomach and nearly falling over, she broke into giggles. He couldn’t help but follow suit and handed her the umbrella as the tension disappeared and left in its place amity.

By the time he left, Bridgette’s father winking at him knowingly, it was with a genuine smile on his face and genuine hope in his heart.

But deep within, shadows and corrosion ticked further on. An unceasing explosive rigged to detonate within the soiled heart of the kwami who grinned with malice and glowed with dark energy. Bad luck was growing, growing, growing and it would soon be unleashed.

Darkness would have its day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few other little fun notes:
> 
> Hello! I'm still here. It's been like three months, so sorry about that. The next chapter is looking to be ridiculously long, so I may have to split it into a two-parter. I'm a little nervous about doing that because I've never tried doing one of those before, but we'll see how it goes! 
> 
> As well, you may be wondering who Mercury, Mime, and Monsieur Pigeon are - and just what their relevance is. Well, in the pv fandom, Mime and MP are generally seen as recurring villains, so I wanted to make sure they got a little cameo :) Mercury as a hero is also one of the quantic kids - a team originally devised and made up of several heroes, including our Ladybug and Cat Noir. He's literally basically just the Flash. If you've read the ml comics, you may have seen Sparrow used. He, too, was a member of the original squad that eventually got cut. Melodie (or a magical flute-bearing Allegra) also originated in this team, along with a few others. I don't plan on using either Sparrow or Melodie for the purpose of this fic, but you may be able to catch hints of them in Allegra's choice of instrument or other little things. Much of pv lore is built on speculation, so I'm using a lot of it very loosely.
> 
> And last, I seriously want to thank you guys for not hounding me about updates. I always get really nervous about checking my inbox because I'm a bit scared you guys are going to be upset with my pace. I know it's tedious and I totally get the pain of waiting for fic. But you are all so lovely and I really, really want you to know I appreciate it. Seriously. That's it for now! As always, I promise the next update will come, but I can't promise when it will come. <3 ~~Keep it crispy y'all.~~


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